


draco malfoy: how it should’ve been

by bvckys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bvckys/pseuds/bvckys
Summary: many people tell you once something is written, it cannot be changed. they’re wrong. one story can be changed and made to go thousands, even millions, of different ways. others, many others, will argue and tell you nothing is set in stone. not even in this story.this story is about the boy who thought he had no choice. the boy, in one universe, who had been raised to be evil, to be the villain, but could not follow through with it. he followed the path laid out by his parents because he did not want to be a disappointment, because he did not know how to make a path for himself. in that universe, that boy had made all the wrong choices.but this is not that universe.





	1. prologue

Many people tell you once something is written and published, it cannot be changed. Not even fiction. Fiction, by definition, it whatever one wants it to be. There is a community out there, somewhere on the internet, twisting and changing existing stories to fit their wants. The possibilities are endless. One story can be changed and made to go thousands, even millions of different way. Others, so many others, will argue and tell you nothing in fiction is ever set in stone. Not even in this story.  
There is a story out there that is the wizarding world of Harry Potter. Seeing as you’re here now, one would assume you know of the story, or have read it already. If you have not, that’s alright. Know you’re missing out, but it’s okay. Besides, this story isn’t really about The Boy Who Lived, or his closest friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.  
This story is about the boy who believed he had no choice. The boy who, in a certain story, had been raised by evil to become evil, to be the villain, but could not find it in himself to follow through with what others needed from him. He followed the path laid out by his parents because he did not, of course, want to disappoint, because he did not know how to create a path, a life, for himself. In that certain story, that boy had made all the wrong choices.  
This is not that story. In this world, that boy learns at the age of eleven the difference between right and wrong, good and bad, blood and water. He makes a path for himself, and although the path is terrifying, uncomfortable, long and winding, it is not cold or lonesome. The path he created himself, the one he is so proud of, is warm, welcoming, safe. For he has his friends with him, the ones he would not have had he allowed others to make choices for him.  
In this story, the boy finds home in the hearts of his friends. He learns family means nothing when you are not loved, and that you should never stay somewhere you are not wanted. He learns he is his own person, and can decide his own future. He learns that even though this path is different, nerve-wracking even, he will never be alone.  
That boy is Draco Malfoy.


	2. malfoy

July 5, 1980. 6:26 am.   
The sun was on the verge of rising as the sky outside began to warm up, going from bluish black to bluish purple, the tiniest bit of pink in a singular spot right below the horizon. A wide window covered much of the east wall, cracked open only the smallest bit. Wispy white curtains blew as soft breezes came through the tiny crack and circulated through the vast bedroom. They almost looked to be breathing, rising and falling with the wind, and were, if you could convince yourself, waving at the baby nearby.   
It was a tiny thing, lying on its back and kicking its stubby legs. Its face contorted in what seemed like frustration, probably at the fact that it could not stand up and escape its cot to watch the sunrise. But it was a child, and the look of frustration probably had something to do with a wet diaper or a new hunger in the pit of its chubby belly.  
It began making noises, ones that started as small grunts but quickly changed into high pitched wails of discomfort. The door to the bedroom creaked open as a dishevelled woman in a pearly silk nightgown stepped in. She crossed the room with a kind of elegance, despite it being so early and looking like she’d just woken up.   
Her gliding footsteps took her all the way to the side of the crib. There, she peered down at the milky white figure staring directly into her own two eyes and reaching for her. The woman did not hesitate in reaching down and pulling the baby boy out of bed to hold him close to her chest. The wailing ceased instantly, replaced by gurgling baby noises. The babys small fingers encased around her thin, pale fingers as a ghost of a smile fell upon her features.  
This woman was tall, spindly, and important looking. What with her gleaming pale blonde hair, pointed nose and sharp jaw, and those deep brown orbs for eyes. The baby, too small to be much more than a blobby mass of babiness, had the same hair color covering his head in short tufts. His eyes, though, were those of his father. Pale grey, mixed with the lightest shade of blue. It was like someone had stolen a few fluffy clouds and a bit of the summer sky and placed them in a blender before pouring the mixture into her child's eyes.  
She cooed at the baby, letting him squeeze her finger as she danced around the room in hopes of him falling asleep. The room itself seemed fit for a much older person, given the size and contents. It did not look very child-like. In fact, the only evidence it belonged to a child was the crib near the window. There were no baskets of toys, blankets, or otherwise anywhere in sight. The walls were a simple gray, with dark hardwood floors to compliment. A huge wooden wardrobe took up the south wall, coat hangers on either sides with robes draping off each hook. The wardrobe had nothing in it. A chest sat on the north wall, with a vanity next to it. The chest had a deadbolt hanging off of it, and would, every now and then, shudder the tiniest bit. The vanity mirror was encased in silver, the glass itself giving off an odd shimmering look.  
This room, you see, was apart of Malfoy Manor. Malfoy Manor was an enormous mansion type house, looking both bold and intimidating at the same time. The contents were not fully known, but were fully occupied with expensive and curious items alike. The yard outside was encompassed by an enormously tall hedge that, even from this distance, could be seen shifting and twisting into and over itself. A bird had tried to land comfortably on top, only to find itself getting wrapped up in the branches and vines, being pulled into the green depths. Once it vanished, the hedge returned to its original state. Cold stone and even colder mist seemed to grip to every blade of grass around the Manor.  
The interior of the Manor itself was crisp, clean, and rather unwelcoming. Marble floors, pillars, countertops. High ceilings, several stories up or below, dark green rugs at the entryway of every room. Most hallways and rooms remained starkly undecorated, some rooms even boarded up or deadbolted shut. Light bulbs burnt out and floorboards creaky with misuse and dried brittle from long winters. Only, the broken and ugly things remained hidden so visitors could not see. It was like the house perfectly captured the family inside.   
Contrary to the size of the house, it held only three inhabitants. The woman was Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Narcissa Black. Her husband, father to their son, was Lucius Malfoy. And lastly, their son was Draco. Draco and the house seemed to be one, his pale skin an extension of the white marble floors, dark eyelashes comparable to the black iron fireplace which seemed to hardly give off any heat. Unlike the house, Draco radiated a kind of friendly warmth, while the house seemed to suck up any drop of coziness or comfort.  
Eleven years Draco lived in this place. He was raised by two of the most well known Death Eaters in recent history, though everyone refuse to believe it, and do not spread the fact about out of fear for their own life. Death Eaters are followers of You-Know-Who, of Voldemort, the most famous and most dangerous Dark wizard of all time. The year Draco had been born, his wrath had only existed for a mere four years. He had been searching for ways to keep himself alive, eternally if possible, while popping in and out of hiding to launch attacks of those he deemed deserved it or defied him.   
Voldemort and his fellow Death Eaters believed only pure blood wizards or witches, meaning they came from an all wizard family line, were worthy of practicing magic. He thought all other magical species, and anyone who was not pure blooded, were unworthy of not only magic, but life as well.  
Seeing as his parents were some of the most loyal Death Eaters to ever serve Voldemort, Narcissa and Lucius had raised Draco to be just like them, despite Voldemort's reign coming to an abrupt and unexpected death a mere few months after Draco had been born. All his Death Eater followers had been caught and sent to Azkaban, the strongest wizard prison ever created, or killed where they had been found.  
Sure, there were still some Death Eaters out there, remaining in their hiding places, jumping from place to place, or taking refuge in a friends house. Draco, on many occasions, had run into strange people speaking in low voices in a room with either his mother or father, sometimes both. He had been told they were friends, but to never speak to them or ask questions about anything.  
From the time he learned to speak, and to comprehend things, Draco had been told to never ask questions, to never trust anyone but his own gut. Because of these circumstances, he grew up a lonely child. He made friends with the birds that came swooping in and out of his vast backyard, chasing the occasional rabbit, and sheepishly smiling at any child he past when out and about with his parents.  
It was at the age of seven that the idea of blood supremacy started being pounded into his head. He had gone to his father, begging an explanation as to why he could not be friends with the small black haired girl they had seen in town earlier that day. On the verge of tears, Lucius grabbed his sons small shoulders with a vice like grip and looked him dead in the eyes. “You are my son, you are a Malfoy, and you are a pure blooded wizard. Never shall we tolerate mingling with lesser people like those dirty Mudbloods. Once you understand your worth, then you will know why you are being raised this way,” he spoke softly, calmly, but his words were fierce and caused the young boy to flinch.  
“It is time you start acting like you’re supposed to. Sit up straight, walk with your chin held high. Never flinch or look away from anyone’s eyes when they are speaking to you,” he finished. Lucius released his son, causing him to stumble slightly, before returning to full height. “Know your worth as a Malfoy. Recognize you are a superior being. When you see that, you will have grown into the son we are raising you to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love my son


	3. the letter

His eleventh birthday had come quicker than he was expecting, but nonetheless, he was excited. Reaching eleven years old meant you could start your first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry the following September. Draco had no doubt in his mind he would be receiving his acceptance letter anytime now, seeing as he was a Malfoy and never had a Malfoy been denied the entry of the legendary school.   
His birthday began with a nice breeze flowing throughout his room, which woke him in time to watch the sunrise. He had seen it countless times, admiring as the stars faded and be replaced with the nearly blinding shades of pink and orange. Draco sat on the floor next to that wide window to observe, and continued to sit there in his dark gray pajamas for thirty minutes after it had risen to his eye level at the second story of his massive house.   
He turned at the sound of his door opening, taking in the sight of a floating silver platter with a small stack of french toast and a cup of warm syrup place itself on the deadbolted chest that now had small objects like inkwells and fancy quills, wax seals and stamps with his family emblem on it: an elaborately written M with a snake twisting in and out of the gaps. He hardly used any of the items, seeing as he had no one to send letters to.  
Draco took his breakfast thankfully, eating it by the floor near the window again so he could listen to the birds sing. If he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that they were singing happy birthday to him, a song in which he’d heard only once in his life, a solid six years ago.  
He wanted to be upset that he was spending this birthday, once again, by himself. But before he had to the time to get into that pitiful mindset, he caught sight of a large, white owl swooping down from the sky, heading straight for his window. Draco nearly choked on his last bite of french toast before setting the plate carefully aside. The owl, large and graceful, landed carefully on the window ledge, sticking its right leg out to reveal an envelope with Draco’s name on it.  
“Thank you,” he whispered, petting the owl gently on its head before watching it take off. He held out the envelope in front of him, heart filling with an overwhelming joy he had never quite felt before. Reaching eleven years old and receiving your Hogwarts acceptance letter was a huge milestone for him, as it marked the beginning of something new. A new journey, a new life, a way out, a different place to call home. Someplace he would be less lonely for sure.   
Draco, having been raised by a wizard and witch that once attended Hogwarts themselves, knew how it worked for the most part already. Nonetheless, he had never been there personally, so it was going to be almost completely new for him.  
Unable to wait any longer, the boy broke the seal and opened it gently, wanting to take his time and take in every detail. The sheets of paper inside were pulled out, and straightened on his knee, the crinkling sound filling his ears on top of the singing of birds outside. Draco read slowly, letting the words drain into his brain. It proclaimed he had been accepted. It stated that term began September first. And it explained that the second page contained a list of all the supplies he would need for his first year, and exactly when he could get them. 

First-year students will require:  
Uniform  
Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)  
One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear  
One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)  
Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags at all times.  
Books  
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk  
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot  
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore  
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger  
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander  
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble  
Other Equipment  
1 Wand  
1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set of glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set of brass scales  
Students may also bring an Owl, a Cat or a Toad.  
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

Draco was grinning wildly now, having read about the supplies he would soon have to buy. He knew these items could only be obtained in Diagon Alley, which Draco had spent quite a lot of time as with his parents.   
Speaking of his parents, he had to tell them he had received his letter, and ask when they could retrieve his supplies from Diagon Alley. Standing up quickly, Draco gripped the papers tightly as he dashed out of his room, careful not to slip up on any corners or steps. Racing down the staircase, he found his mother sitting cross legged at the kitchen table, spinning a spoon in her coffee cup without touching it. The kitchen table was made of the same dark wood as every door and every wardrobe in the entire house. Her cup was made of a fine, thin china with a gold rim.  
“Mother!” Draco exclaimed, waving his letter and grinning from ear to ear. He slapped the papers down on the table top, sliding them over closer to her so she could see. She hadn’t glanced up from her newspaper, a copy of the Daily Prophet, until the papers nudged her cup. A quick ghost of a smile flashed over her pale, pointed features before it returned to its normal state of disinterest.   
“We always knew you’d make it,” she said softly. “Why the surprise?”  
Draco seemed a bit caught off guard. He caught his mother's dark eyes and, on instinct, stood straight-backed and lifted his chin a little bit. “It’s an honor to be able to attend the same school as my family, Mother.”  
The same ghostly flash of a smile appeared again. “You’ll make us proud, won’t you, dear?”  
His collected facade faltered for a fraction of a second. “I’ll do everything-”  
Her hands caught his skinny arms, holding him in a grip that was uncomfortably familiar. “We’ve tried very hard to raise you to be the man we need you to be. We have raised you in a way that we are proud of,” she murmured, her tone icy. “It would be a shame for you to go off to this school, only to return a disappointment. We expect the very best of you, Draco.”  
He felt his very being try to shrink, collapse, melt away, anything to get out of her grip and run back into his room. Maybe even hide under his bed, or jump out of his window and run as far and as fast as he could. No matter how hard he wished, Draco could not and would not do anything of the sort. He felt as if he were being shoved into a very small and dark room. His parents had succeeded in shoving him inside said room, and were very close to shutting the door and sealing him in forever. Draco had only a short window of time to fight back and escape.  
“I’ll do my best,” is all he could choke out. He did not dare flinch, look away, or struggle. His parents had trained him for quite some time now that he had a reputation to uphold, one he did not fully understand. They had told him he was destined for greatness, to be as they were. To be yet another Slytherin in the great house of Malfoy. To be a Death Eater, and to bring back Lord Voldemort’s ways.  
They never told him directly that was what they were doing, not had they ever even told him what a Death Eater was, but Draco was a smart and sneaky boy. He listened in on conversations he shouldn’t have, read articles he shouldn’t have, and learned more on his own than either of his parents ever had. They always told him to never trust anyone, and Draco always assumed they meant themselves as well.   
Narcissa released him and gave him his letter before sending him off back up to his room, telling him he would not be able to get his supplies until August, when Lucius returned from his “work expedition”. Draco knew what this mean, but didn’t dare saying anything back to her as he went up to his room once more.  
The letter settled on his deadbolted chest. Draco paced in front of the window, his small eleven year old mind running faster than it needed to as he thought about what just happened and what could lie ahead of him. He knew what his family expected of him, and had heard of what happened to a man named Sirius Black, his mother's cousin. He had been disowned at the age of sixteen for defying his family’s beliefs. The very same was possible for Draco, if he decided right here and now that what he was doing was right.  
The belief of blood supremacy, superiority due to lineage, this ‘reputation’ he needed to uphold, all of it frustrated him. He hated it, and he did not want to become his parents. He did not want to grow up cold and soulless, becoming nothing more than wealthy and prideful. He did not want to inherit this forsaken house, that of which he had spent eleven lonely years in. Draco wanted to have friends, his own friends, a small family of his own. He wanted to feel loved and welcome, cozy and comfortable in a place he could call home. Hogwarts, he decided suddenly, was going to be that place. His safe haven, his escape, his home.   
Draco Malfoy decided right then and there, on his eleventh birthday, that he would not be the boy his family wanted him to be. He would march into that school as his own person, making his own decisions, and creating an alternate life for himself that surely no one was expecting. He hoped he could make friends along the way, because he was not entirely sure he could do this alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY SON


	4. diagon alley

August took its sweet, precious time in arriving. Draco’s father, Lucius, had come home on the second day of August, bringing with him a billowing cloud of negativity in his wake. It was not unusual. Lucius personified Malfoy Manor better than either Narcissa or Draco combined. He was older, tired, and radiating a bad type of energy, but still pristine, expensive, well built.   
Lucius was proud of his son, smiling vaguely at Draco and patting him on the back, but that was it. Draco was thankful his father didn’t pull the same stunt as his mother had back on his birthday, taking hold of his shoulders and telling him things he did not want to hear. He simply congratulated him, told him happy late birthday, then let turned to escape somewhere into the vastness of their home.  
“Father?” Draco hesitated, unsure of whether or not now was a good time to ask the question that had sat in the back of his head since his birthday.   
Lucius turned around, his traveling cloak swishing dramatically. He said nothing, but raised a single, blond brow.  
“I was wondering if we could go to Diagon Alley to get my school supplies,” said Draco, voice clear and unwavering under the gaze of Lucius Malfoy. He would not flinch away.  
Lucius pondered the question for what felt like forever, before nodding gently. “I don't see why not,” he murmured. Draco’s spirits lifted immediately. He had turned to run up the stairs and get dressed when his father called after him and said, “Be ready to leave very soon.”  
Seeing as Draco had waited nearly two months for this day, he did not take his time. He shoved through the dark wardrobe, retrieving anything his hands landed on. His own traveling cloak hung on the coat rack until he yanked it off with a force that nearly brought the whole thing down before fastening it on his chest. Grabbing the letter as he went, Draco bolted down the staircase faster than he ever had before.  
Lucius was already waiting at the front door, tall and dark like everything else, with Narcissa by his side. By her appearance, Draco knew she would not be traveling with them. He was partially thankful, but dealing with his father alone was sometimes overwhelming. Her thin hands fixed the cloak around his neck, lips pressed into a straight line. Draco glanced up at her as his father began making his way out of the door already. His groomed blond hair slid over his forehead, having to look up so far at her tall figure. He searched for something in her eyes, maybe a good luck or a have fun, but it was not there. Draco heaved in a breath, nodding curtly at her, then continued on through the door without a second glance.  
The door shut on its own accord, then Lucius flicked something behind him and Draco heard several locking sounds. The something in his hand was hidden beneath his cloak, and they were off to Diagon Alley.

X

Lucius’s mode of transportation was exceedingly handy and almost instant, though Draco did not know what it was. His parents had never told him how it worked or what it was called, but told him he would learn how at the age of seventeen, like everyone else.  
Diagon Alley was hidden to the Muggle eye, that is to say, non-magical people. However, Muggles are allowed access if they’re accompanying their wizard friends. There were different ways of getting in, one being by traveling through a pub called Leaky Cauldron, which was on a dingy street in London, between a bookshop and a music shop. There was a courtyard behind it, with a massive brick wall that had a single brick on it that would allow you in. Wizards and witches were taught how to find it, and once it was found, they tapped it with their wands, and the wall would open up to Diagon Alley.   
Draco and his father had not gone that way, because Lucius could simply just teleport, or whatever it was really called, inside. The two now stood in the middle of the busy place, sun shining brightly down on everyone as they bustled in and out of buildings carrying objects of all kinds.   
Diagon Alley was a vast and diverse place, and if any witch or wizard needed something, they were likely to find it here. Draco wished he could stay all day and visit every single shop here, starting with Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, moving on to Quality Quidditch Supplies. He could spend hours in that place, looking at different broom models and practice robes. Unfortunately, he was here for school supplies, and didn’t really have time for ice cream or Quidditch supplies. First years weren’t allowed on the House teams, anyway. They weren’t even allowed broomsticks. Draco smirked to himself as he thought of the kid that made the school create and enforce that rule.  
Lucius took Draco to Madam Malkin’s shop for his school and work robes. Madam Malkin had owned this place since what seemed like the dawn of time. She and her assistants worked together to tailor robes for anyone who comes in. Draco was glad they had come here first, because he wanted to get the boring part over with. Getting tailored for robes took far too long for his liking, but he knew afterward they would head straight to Flourish and Blotts.  
Flourish and Blotts carried a great variety of magic books, like textbooks for Hogwarts classes or otherwise. It carried other basic supplies, like massive rolls of parchment, cups full of quills, and inkwells of all sizes. Some quills, Draco noticed, were charmed so they would always spell words correctly. There was also a shelf of self-inking quills, which, obviously, ink themselves so they did not have to be dipped manually.   
Draco had found himself peacefully separated from his father, deep between two large shelves that reached the roof and stacked with copies of Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them. This was the last book he needed to find and buy for school, and his father had held the rest of the textbooks as Draco went searching for this one. He had heard of the author, Newt Scamander, a few times before. As he began flipping the pages, his eyes scanning over words and pictures, another boy had wandered down the aisle. Draco tried not to notice him, tearing his eyes away a single second after seeing him.  
Wait a minute.  
Draco glanced at the boy, letting his hair obscure his curious eyes. He scanned him from top to bottom; a mop of unruly, black hair sat atop his head and, as he shook his head to get the hair out of his eyes, Draco saw circular glasses to frame his unrealistically bright, green eyes.   
This is impossible, he thought.  
“Harry, dear, have you found it?” a female voice sounded as a woman rounded the corner to join the boy. Harry. The woman Draco assumed was his mother had long, sleek, bright fiery red hair and shared the same shade of green for eyes. A man that looked just like this Harry character appeared now, his glasses sitting crooked on his nose as he touched the woman’s shoulder. His voice brought Draco out of his daze.  
“Excuse me,” the man began, speaking loudly to reach Draco’s ears from the other end of the aisle, “do you know where we can find a copy of Fantastic Beasts?”   
Draco could not form words, unable to tear his eyes from the boy his age. “Uh,” he cleared his throat, “Yes, sir, right here.”  
The family looked delighted, coming down to his end with a bounce in their step. The closer they got, the harder realization came down on him. Each one of them bore a small, obscured lightning shaped scar above their right brow. The man pulled a book from the shelf, smiling openly at the cover of the book before handing it to his son, Harry. “Thank you,” he exclaimed. “Are you starting your first year at Hogwarts this year, too, son?”   
His voice was strangely friendly, but Draco supposed it was only strange because he wasn’t used to it. The longer he stayed silent, gaping at their matching scars, the more sheepish Harry had become. He had now turned his head, tugging his father’s arm.   
Draco then realized he had embarrassed the boy because of his staring. Again, he cleared his throat. His father would be angry if he had seen him act this way in front of anyone. With that thought in mine, his chin lifted out of habit.   
“Yes, I am,’’ Draco replied clearly, attempting to smile at the boy who was now trying to pull his hair out of its natural state to hide the scar. “You must be the Potter family,” he started again. The Family Who Lived. That fateful night on Hallow’s Eve, 1980, when Voldemort had set out to kill Harry Potter, a boy prophesied to bring the end of Voldemort’s reign. Draco knew much about them, because his parents used to talk about it a lot. Voldemort had attempted a Killing Curse on Harry himself, but then his mother had jumped in to sacrifice herself, and his father had done the same, and the protection doubled so much that the curse itself rebounded and killed Voldemort instantly. Quite an embarrassing loss.  
With his death brought the end of all the darkness of the world. Death Eaters everywhere were killed, or sent to Azkaban. Others, like his parents, had simply gone into hiding and kept their Death Eater acts on the down low.  
Draco briefly wondered if any of them had recognized him as a Malfoy, with his distinctive Malfoy features. If they had, they did not care. In fact, the man even held out his hand. “I’m James,” he proclaimed, the same wide smile evident on his face. Draco shook his hand, shaking slightly.   
The woman smiled equally as bright, and shook his hand all the same. “I’m Lily. This is our son, Harry. He’s a bit sheepish in the limelight.” She looked down to her son, red hair falling from its place on her shoulders, and offered him a wink.  
Draco began to blush of embarrassment. “I really am sorry for calling you out like that, I only said it because - well, I was just a bit shocked, I didn’t mean anything by it -” he stuttered all over himself.  
James shook his head, black hair waving with his movement. “Don’t worry, it’s quite alright.” He paused, glancing at Draco’s hair. “What’s your name, son?”  
“Draco,” he said, quite glad they weren’t offended by his shock. “Draco Malfoy.”  
“Malfoy?” James whispered. Draco bit his lip.  
“Yes, sir,” he replied hesitantly.  
James Potter did not seem the least bit affected by this, although, Lily’s soft expression had hardened a bit.  
“Well,” Harry started, giving everyone a bit of a start, “You’re the first kid I’ve met my age that’ll be attending Hogwarts. Reckon we could be friends? You know, so we’re not lonely.”  
Draco’s heart began hammering against his chest. The Boy Who Lived wanted to be his friend. Despite hearing his last name, though maybe Harry was unaware of his families ugly past. James seemed beyond thrilled at the idea of this. Lily looked the tiniest bit hesitant, but she hid it well. Draco did not catch her look of surprise.  
Before he could reply, his grin was wiped away instantly as a voice filled his ears. Lucius had rounded the opposite corner the Potters had come from and was walking with speed and purpose, shoes hitting the floor with unnecessary force.  
“Draco will be no friend of yours,” he hissed, grabbing Draco’s shoulder rather violently and yanking him away from the family. “He is a Malfoy. He is my son. He ought to be able to pick the right sort of people to be friends with.”  
Draco felt his eyes prick, but he forced the tears to stay at bay. He was already in enough trouble as it is, crying would only make it worse. Though it was rather difficult to hide his pain as he watched Harry’s face turn over into fear as his parents nudged him behind both of them, their features contorted into both rage and shock.   
Lucius did not give the Potters the chance to argue with him. He ripped the textbook from Draco’s hands and placed it atop the existing stack as he shoved his son all the way down the aisle. Draco stole one last, desperate look at the family, catching Lily’s eye before rounding the corner and they disappeared from view completely.   
“I thought we taught you to never mingle with people like them,” Lucius growled savagely. Draco did not dare say anything. The wheels in his head were turning at an alarming rate, fear still strong in the pit of his stomach. The decision to completely go against everything he was ever raised as was brought back to his mind. He had one month until Hogwarts, one month to decide for himself. The thought became more and more tempting as the days passed on. Lucius chewed him out very quietly as they bought the books and left the store, but Draco did nothing but nod his head. This had ruined his entire Diagon Alley trip.  
His mind was blurred and numb throughout the rest of the day. Not even the loud sounds or smells of Eeylops Owl Emporium could affect him. His spirits lifted slightly after leaving with an eagle owl in cage, which he immediately decided to name Eris. eris was the second largest dwarf planet in the solar system, and Draco enjoyed learning about things in the solar system. Potage’s Cauldron Shop was not as interesting as Draco had wanted, containing only cauldrons and nothing else, believe it or not.  
The best part of the day, aside from meeting the Potters, had been visiting Ollivanders. Ollivanders was a wand shop, in a narrow and sort of shabby building that was quite tall. A sign above the door read: Ollivanders, Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC in peeling gold letters. The shopkeeper, Mr. Ollivander, was a strange and slightly scary old man. He had wide, pale eyes and white hair. He told Draco he could remember every single wand he had ever made. The process of finding the perfect wand was quite odd. Mr. Ollivander had measured the length of Draco’s left arm, right leg, and the distance from his eyebrows to his chin.   
The shop contained long, thin boxes stacked everywhere, sometimes all the way up to the ceiling. Mr. Ollivander had given Draco multiple wands to try out, telling him to just give it a wave. Some blew out gold sparks, or red sparks, while others did nothing at all. Finally, though, Mr. Ollivander handed Draco a wand made of hawthorn, ten inches long exactly, with a unicorn hair core. Mr. Ollivander described it as reasonably pliant.   
Receiving his wand made everything come to life for Draco. He and his father had returned home in silence, and separated instantly as soon as they arrived at Malfoy Manor. Draco took all of his supplies up to his room, placing it all gently next to the trunk he would be packing in three weeks.  
Draco set his owl on top of the deadbolted chest, shoving everything else out of the way. Then, he opened the door and allowed the owl to climb onto his arm. It turned to him, unblinking, and stared into his eyes with its own, which were a wicked shade of blue. The urge to cry had returned to him. Try as he might, he couldn’t hold back this time.  
Today had been the last straw. His father’s actions had answered Draco’s question: is parting from my family’s ways the right thing to do? He told himself he would do anything in his power to become his own person, and that nothing would change his mind. He could be disowned and thrown onto the streets of Muggle London and his decision would still be worth it. And now, unless his father had ruined it, he had a friend. Perhaps Harry Potter would be the friend Draco needed in this time of trial, where he was not sure who he was or who he wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> james and lily!!!!


	5. hogwarts express

The day had finally come. The day to aboard the Hogwarts Express for the very first time. Draco had already packed the night before. He had placed everything in his M branded trunk, casual clothes on one side with robes stacked on top. His books and supplies took up the remaining room. He had packed several times yesterday, wanting everything to fit nicely and simply because he enjoyed packing. His wand, resting in its box still, sat atop the stacks of everything else in the very middle. Everything he needed to take care of Eris was tucked in his trunk as well.   
Draco was treated to another stack of french toast as his father took his trunk and owl cage downstairs to sit beside the front door. He ate quickly, unable to sit still for longer than five minutes. He could feel his fingers shaking, feet tapping nervously on the floor beneath. He usually popped his knuckles when nervous, but his mother hated the sound, so he refrained.   
Both Narcissa and Lucius were to accompany Draco today. The family exited the house, Lucius holding the handle of Draco’s trunk, Narcissa holding Eris in his cage with Draco grasping her arm. They were to be Apparating (Lucius told Draco his teleportation was actually just called Apparition) into King’s Cross, the train station where the Hogwarts Express would depart. But of course there could not be a magical train mingling amongst the Muggle trains, so there was a certain platform wizards and witches had to get onto in order to board the Hogwarts Express. It was platform nine and three quarters, and was only to be used by witches and wizards boarding or helping their children board the train.   
With one last glimpse at Malfoy Manor, he and his family were Apparating directly into King’s Cross. After two seconds of near suffocation, they landed at the station in a dark alley. No one could see them. Neither of his parents said a word as they led him directly to platform nine and three quarters. There, Narcissa gave her son a tiny nudge.   
“Do not be afraid as you pass through, else you’ll hit the wall. I advise getting a running start if you’re nervous,” she explained, voice soft. He did exactly as she said, taking his trolley with trunk and owl cage sitting on top, he ran at the seemingly solid wall, refusing to let his fear of hitting solid brick interfere his concentration.   
When he opened his eyes, he realized he had made it. Draco’s eyes led to the beautiful crimson train in its place, smoke rolling out at a steady rate. There were people everywhere, trying to avoid running into each other, yelling goodbyes at family members, many people hugging. Some were even crying.   
Narcissa and Lucius appeared next to him. Lucius gave a quick scan of the area around them before patting his son’s shoulder. Draco prevented himself from flinching. Narcissa turned him around and hugged him for a brief moment before reaching down and kissing his slightly wavy blond hair. “We shall see you at Christmas,” she stated. Lucius nodded. “Never forget who you are.” And without another word, they left, leaving him to find his own way around and onto the train.  
Draco swallowed his fear, raising his chin ever so slightly. He could not entirely ignore the dread in the pit of his stomach, his father’s voice ringing in his ears. Never forget who you are, he had said. Draco had made a pact with himself after meeting the Potters in Diagon Alley nearly a month ago. He promised himself that Hogwarts would be a new start for him, and that he would make a new name for himself. He was his own person, from here on out.  
Draco, close to boarding the train, had been searching the crowd, hoping for the familiar face that was Harry Potter. Somewhere in the crowd, surely, he could spot Lily’s flaming head of hair.   
“Draco!” a feminine voice called. His head whipped around and, sure enough, there was Lily Potter followed closely by James and Harry. Not only were the Potters coming toward him, but they were being followed by an entire family of redheads. Maybe they were the rest of Lily’s family?  
He beamed at them anyway, Harry coming up to his to clap Draco’s shoulder. He hoped Harry hadn’t caught him flinch. “I met a few new people before we found the platform!” he said proudly, green eyes gleaming. A flaming haired boy with freckles overtaking his features came up behind Harry, out of the group of redheads. He seemed very tall for eleven. Then Draco realized after taking in the hand-me-down robes, and the fact that the group he came out of looked exactly like him, he must be a Weasley.   
“Draco, meet Ron.” Harry grinned at Ron, who seemed to be rather shocked to be in Draco’s presence. “Ron, meet Draco.”   
“Hello, Ron,” Draco smiled politely and held out his hand for Ron to shake. Thankfully, on Draco’s behalf, he did not give him an ugly look or refuse the handshake. In fact, he took it gratefully, and smiled right back at him.   
Lily and James Potter came up to Draco next, telling him how enthused they were to see him again, and they hoped the train ride was comfortable. Harry and Ron were talking to identical twin boys, both taller than Ron. They had a humorous glint in their eyes, whispering things to the two smaller boys. A woman began to interfere, shoving the older boys along. She looked like their mother, with flaming ruby hair to match, of course.   
“I don’t want to be receiving any owls this year telling me you two’ve shoved anyone off their brooms or blown up a toilet,” the woman said hastily as she tried to fix their hair. The one on the left smirked. “Blown up a toilet? We’ve never done that, have we, George?”   
The one on the right replied instantly, wearing the same smirk as he ruffled his hair again. “I don’t believe we have, Fred, but thanks for the idea, Mum!”  
The woman sighed. “Oh, honestly, you two.”  
Parents were kissing their children goodbye. Ron was squeezed into a hug from his mother, who kissed his forehead repeatedly before she moved on to the twins. Ron then received a small hug from an even smaller girl, who Draco assumed was his sister. James and Lily gave Harry a hug individually. Draco was beginning to feel rather awkward, so he stood off to the side. He was unsure whether he should board the train now, or wait on his new friends.  
Draco took off, slowly, still very unsure. “Wait up!” someone hollered behind him. Harry wheeled his trolley next to Draco’s. Ron pulled up next. “Think you were gonna get on without us?” he asked, nudging his shoulder playfully.  
The blond boy flustered, not knowing how to react. “You - you want to sit with me?”  
“Well, of course!” Ron said loudly, like it was obvious. Draco was more than honored. He felt his heart began to swell, and beat harder than usual. He was nervous again, thinking his father might show up at any moment and snatch him away, dragging him back to Malfoy Manor. He peeked nervously over his shoulder, catching Lily’s eye.  
“Hey, Harry,” Lily started, noticing Draco’s anxiety. He thought he had been hiding it well. “Wait up for Draco closer to the door, won’t you, dear?” Harry gave her a confused look, glancing at his father for explanation. James simply raised an eyebrow that said do as your told. “See you at Christmas, Harry!” he called after his son. Lily, Draco noticed, said nothing and simply just waved at the boy.  
Ron and Harry moved onward, giving Draco one last weird look. Draco looked at Lily nervously, fighting the anxiety in his throat. What did she want to say to him? Did she want to tell him to stay away from her son? That her son deserved better friends?  
But instead of gripping his shoulders and hissing at him to mind his own business, she leaned down and smiled fondly at him. “You must be afraid,” she murmured. “All by yourself.”  
Draco felt the immediate need to defend his parents absence, but nothing came. “I - I suppose.” He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to pop his knuckles.   
“Well,” Lily continued. “You won’t be alone with Harry.” She met his eyes. “With us.”  
James was standing by Draco now. He felt small compared to his height, nervous again just from being looked down at. “If you ever need us, we’ll be here.”  
“You hardly know me,” Draco said defiantly.   
“You’re our son’s friend, aren’t you?” James asked politely.  
Draco pondered for a moment. He hardly know Harry, or his parents, but they were willing to - to what? To take care of him? Be there for him like he were their own son? “I think so, yes.”  
James placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder again, being very dad like in this moment. He gave him a smile he had never received before. Not from his father, anyway. Draco heaved in a breath. He had been standing here for too long. He needed to let go of his fear, swallow it, drown it. If this was his new beginning, he had to be willing to accept help from others.  
“Besides,” Lily began, green eyes twinkling. “I’ll be at Hogwarts, as well. I’m Potions master.”  
That explained why she had not said a solid goodbye to Harry.  
“Thank you,” Draco said now, voice clear and unrestrained. The Potters gave him a nod, a smile, then a nudge. “Now go get on that train,” James pointed at Harry, who was now waving Draco down, motioning for him to hurry.  
With one last look at the Potters, he grinned at them, his fear nearly entirely gone. This really was his new beginning, and with it came many new friends. Ron climbed aboard the train after Fred and George, followed by Harry, and Draco brought up the rear. The train was much more vast on the inside than he had expected. Though, seeing as they boarded late, it was very hard to find an empty compartment to sit in. the twins had long since departed, yelling after some kid named Lee Jordan.   
“Look, there’s only two kids in that one,” said Ron, pointing to a compartment that held a short, stumpy looking boy who had his head down by the floor. He seemed to be searching for something, accompanied by a girl with bushy, brown hair.  
Harry shrugged and opened the door. “Do you guys mind if we sit with you?” he asked gently, staring curiously as the two’s heads popped up from the floor.  
“Yes, but please close that door!” said the girl. “We’re looking for Neville’s toad.”  
Neville.  
Longbottom?  
Neville Longbottom’s parents had been tortured into insanity shortly after he had been born. Tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, Dracos aunt. She was his mother’s sister, but now she was rotting in Azkaban.  
Draco did not dare linger on that thought.  
“A toad?” Draco asked warily, setting his trunk out of the way with Eris on top. Neville replied with a yes, before coming out from underneath the seat with a slimy toad in his hand. “Found him!” The girl sighed in relief before sitting next to him.  
Harry, Ron, and Draco sat in the opposite seat with Draco closest to the window. It was perfectly cozy in here, with a beautiful view of the countryside. Draco knew it would be a long ride to Hogwarts, so he tried to get comfortable.  
Introductions sounded between the children. The bushy haired girl was Hermione Granger, her parents were Muggles and were quite proud of her. Neville Longbottom said his name, then introduced his toad as Trevor. Ron went next, pulling out a sleeping rat from his robe pocket. “His name is Scabbers. He’s pretty useless.”  
Harry said his name next. Obviously, he caught everyone’s attention. There were a few questions about his parents and his scar from Neville, but that was it. He showed everyone his snowy white owl, Hedwig.  
“I’m Draco,” he began steadily. “That’s my owl, Eris.” Draco pointed over to the owl sleeping soundly with its head tucked under its wing. He felt Neville staring at him. Draco sighed, “I hope we can all be good friends.” The way he said it made it sound like he was drawing it out into a question.   
“Malfoy?” Neville asked cautiously.  
“Yes.”  
“Oh.”  
“Draco is cool,” Harry said defiantly. Draco looked at him closely, looking for a joke somewhere underneath his words. “He isn’t like his family, are you, Draco?”  
“Of course not,” he replied instantly.   
After that awkward chain of events, the rest of the ride went smoothly. The lady with the food trolley came by around lunch, Harry bought a bunch of candy and shared with everyone after they had actual lunches. At one point, some of them even fell asleep. Overall, though, the ride was great. Draco had made new friends, already having learnt quite a bit about them.  
They would be arriving at Hogwarts soon. From there, as Draco understood, they, as in all first years, would be led to little boats. They would ride across the lake and head into the Great Hall from a different angle than everyone else. And that is exactly what happened.   
The grounds had caused several people to gape at its beauty. First years were greeted by the groundskeeper, Hagrid. He was a giant, intimidating man, with hands the size of frying pans and a voice loud enough, even his whisper wasn’t quiet enough. The castle itself was barely visible from this view on the lake. Draco, Harry, and Ron all rode in a boat together. Hermione and Neville had separated from them at some point, but found their boat and floated all the way across right next to each other.  
After exiting the boats, Hagrid led them into the castle. From the main entrance, they were taken to the Great Hall. The Great Hall had four long tables with banners above them, representing each house. Red and gold for Gryffindor. Blue and bronze for Ravenclaw. Yellow and black for Hufflepuff. And finally, silver and green for Slytherin. Draco’s stomach lurched at the sight of those colors. Older students were already sitting at their respective tables, watching the smaller kids with wide grins.  
First years filed in, everyone very jittery and nervous. The talking died down considerably as soon as everyone caught sight of an older woman standing at the front of the Hall, next to a stool with an ancient looking witches hat on top.   
“Hello, first years! I am Professor Mcgonagall, head of Gryffindor House, and the transfiguration teacher. Welcome to Hogwarts,” the woman exclaimed, opening her arms wide. “This is your Sorting ceremony. When I call your name, please come up here and have a seat on the stool. I will then place the hat on your head, and it will decide which House you belong in,” Professor Mcgonagall explained. “Once Sorted, you will set at your respective tables.”  
She stepped aside and pulled out a roll of parchment from her robes, then looked to the Hat expectantly. To every single first years surprise, the Hat opened up in the middle, forming a mouth type thing. It began to sing.  
"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"  
Though the Hat had said not to be afraid, Draco was terrified. He seemed to be hiding it well, because Harry nudged him excitedly. He wanted to be as relaxed and excited like Harry, but he simply couldn’t. Ron stood next to him, not daring to pull his eyes away from the dusty hat. Professor Mcgonagall began reading off names, sending Draco’s heart racing.   
His entire family, both Malfoy and Black, had all been placed into Slytherin, with the exception of Sirius Black. His thoughts flickered to his departure from his parents, back straightening and chin lifting subconsciously. He thought of what his father had told him shortly after returning from Diagon Alley.   
“Never forget you are a Malfoy. A Malfoy and a Black all in one. A pureblood wizard, a Slytherin through and through. Nothing less. You are destined for greatness, destined to follow in mine and your mother’s footsteps. . .”  
“Granger, Hermione!” Professor Mcgonagall yelled. Harry pat her on the back, Ron nudged her a bit. A few moments later, the Sorting Hat had made its choice.  
“GRYFFINDOR!”  
The entirety of the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers.  
His hands were shaking now. He glared at the Sorting Hat, terrified of where it would place him. He wanted to believe he was not like them. He did not want to ever be like them. He didn’t even fully understand who his parents were, what they were capable of, or what they had ever been responsible for, but Draco knew with nearly every ounce of his being that he would never replicate his parents lives. He was Draco Malfoy, he was his own person, and he was not going to let blood status and family lineage decide his future.  
“Malfoy, Draco!” Professor yelled this time. His heart fell to the floor. A hush fell across the Hall, nervous chattering dying down to nothing more than pointing fingers and hushed whispers behind small hands. Draco swallowed that same lump of fear in his throat, holding his chin higher still. He felt the children’s eyes burn into the back of his head, hoping his friends didn’t hear any of their whispers.  
I am Draco, I am my own person, I decide where to go from here. . .  
Hands shaking, legs feeling like they might give out at any minute, he crawled onto the stool as Professor Mcgonagall held the Sorting Hat over his head. Draco squeezed his hands together, gritting his teeth together. He was ready to tell this stupid hat no, if need be.  
Then it happened. The Hat was placed on his head, opening the ominous mouth to yell out Slytherin, then Draco thought don’t you dare. He had caught the Hat by surprise.  
“Dear boy, I have seen your family,” it whispered in his head. “I have seen their thoughts, their ambitions. They are all Slytherin, as you know. I know you’re heart is in a different place. I see your true desire. The desire to make a path of your own, to decide and create your own future.”   
There was a heart stopping pause. He had his eyes closed, fists clenched uncomfortably tight. Then, the Hat yelled out something no one ever could’ve expected.  
“GRYFFINDOR!”  
His body jolted, adrenaline beginning to course through his veins. The table of lions roared their cheers, clapping wildly and screaming their congratulations. Some stood up and punched the air, while others squinted their eyes and didn’t move a muscle.  
Professor Mcgonagall lifted the Hat from his head and whispered her congratulations. Limbs numb, brain running wild, and a grin he could not possibly hope to hide, Draco hopped off the stool and walked to the red and gold table. His heart was hammering hard in his chest. He knew Slytherins from across the Great Hall would be scowling, rolling their eyes, questioning why a Malfoy hadn’t made it into their house.  
Before he had much time to dwell on the thought, twin boys he recognized had risen from their seats to clap him on the back and lead him to a seat next to their own. Hermione was sat next to them, with two hopeful empty seats on her other side. Fred and George had sat back down in time to watch Harry get Sorted.   
“Gryffindor,” Fred whispered.  
“Slytherin?” George murmured. “No, no, his father's James Potter. He’ll definitely be Gryffindor.”  
A boy across from them gave them a menacing look, shushing them by putting a single finger to his lips before pointing back to the stool. The twins hushed at once, chuckling softly before turning to the Sorting Hat once more. Draco stole a second glance at the boy who shushed them, recognizing him instantly as a Weasley as well. This one had cleaner robes, groomed hair, sat with his back straight, and had a Prefects badge.  
Prefects act as junior counselors for their Houses, to put it into simpler words. They are assigned during fifth year. They patrol halls, deliver messages to students in their Houses, and lead lost kids to the correct classrooms. They are the leaders of the House.  
“That’s Percy,” Hermione whispered very quietly, with Neville across the table from her. He kept giving Percy nervous glances. “He’s Ron’s brother.” Without another word, she turned around to watch the Sorting. All he could do was give her a nod of acknowledgement. His head was trying to take him back to a few weeks after he received his acceptance letter, while his eyes still rested on the Prefects badge. Before he had time to indulge on the memory, the Sorting Hat announced Harry’s House.  
“GRYFFINDOR!”  
The boy stood straight up from the stool, grinning wildly at his table. All, including Draco and Hermione, had shot upwards from their seats. Hoots and hollers filled his ears. The whole of the Gryffindor table was much more excited to see Harry join them than Draco.   
It took awhile but before long, Ron had joined them as well. He filled in the only empty seat left, right next to Hermione. Draco was still shaking slightly even after the stool and the Hat had been removed from the Great Hall. he knew the Start-Of-Term feast would begin soon, and hoped that would completely wipe away his nervous thoughts. It was hard to ignore the thoughts when kids up and down the whole of the Gryffindor table kept staring at him, or pointing their grubby little fingers in his direction.   
“What’s the matter with you?” Harry leaned over and whispered. Draco blinked, surprised. Nobody had ever really asked him that question before. Thinking of Lucius, he straightened his posture before looking Harry in the eyes. “Nothing,” he lied. “What’s the matter with you?”  
“Still a bit nervous,” Harry shrugged. “And really hungry,” he finished with a chuckle. Draco broke into a grin, about to reply when professors starting filling in to the long table at the front of the room. That part of the Great Hall, where the Sorting took place, had been risen off the floor quite a bit, with several stairs leading the the platform. Behind the professors table were four giant hourglasses, all of which were empty. From left to right, there was the Gryffindor one dripping red and gold, Ravenclaw dusted in blue and bronze, Hufflepuff highlighted with yellow and shadowed with black, and finally Slytherin, with silver and green stained glass.  
There were many professors up there, but none of which Draco recognized. He knew Lily Potter had said she was Potions professor, but she was not up there yet.  
As soon as that was said, a group of four adults stepped out of the door at the back of the platform and started shuffling behind the table to find their seats. Leading the line was a tall man with black hair that reached his ears, which was pushed back in an effortless looking way. He was pale, but still darker than Draco. The man looked perfectly groomed. Draco watched him wink at the Slytherin table before he took a seat. The man following behind him looked nearly just like him, but with shoulder length hair and an almost rough looking stubble on his cheeks.  
An elbow met his ribs. It was Harry. He was pointing excitedly at the men that had just sat down. “That’s Regulus Black, head of the Slytherin house, and that’s his brother, Sirius Black. Sirius is the History of Magic professor. He’s also my godfather,” Harry whispered excitedly. Draco felt his stomach fall out at the sound of the name Sirius Black.  
That was the man his family hated so strongly, the only Black to ever be anything other than a Slytherin. He had never heard of Regulus Black before, but Draco assumed it was because Regulus had never been disowned by his family.   
Next to Sirius - Professor Black? - sat an even taller man, with mousy brown hair that was almost as well groomed as Regulus’s - Professor Black?. From here, his face looked quite sad.  
“That’s Remus Lupin, he teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Harry explained. He dropped his pointing hand as soon as he saw the woman sitting on the other side of this Remus Lupin.   
Her hair nearly matched that of the surrounding Weasley’s, green eyes bright enough to see from this distance. She was in robes like every other teacher around her, but her hair had been put up in a ponytail.  
“And that, as you know, is my mother,” Harry said softly, now trying to wave the group of professors down. “She teaches Potions.”  
“Blimey, Harry,” Ron chuckled. “We’ll never have to worry about failing any of those classes. What’s Regulus - I mean, Professor Black - teach?”  
Hermione gave Ron a pointed look, her face serious. “You shouldn’t assume you won’t fail simply because they know Harry.”  
Ron just shrugged. Harry shook his head, a grin dancing on his lips. Draco stole a second glance as the professors table, which was now full end to end with teachers. At the very end, next to quite a small man, was Hagrid, who waved wildly down the table at Lily. The small man next to him tried to ignore him.  
“He teaches Ancient Runes. He’s really quite smart,” Harry said plainly.  
Kids were starting to get antsy, waiting impatiently for the feast to begin. A man, a much older man, had walked to the center of the platform, smiling and gazing warmly at all the students. His silvery beard reached all the way down to the middle of his stomach. He even had silver shoulder length hair on his head to match.   
That must be Albus Dumbledore, Draco thought fleetingly. Everyone had gone completely silent. He had been expecting some sort of elaborate welcoming speech, but that is not at all what came out of his mouth.  
“I am Professor Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts,” he began. “New students, welcome to Hogwarts!” he roared over the crowd. “Old students, welcome back! We are so glad to be spending yet another year with you wonderful children. Another year full of magical education awaits you. I know you must all be hungry, so I will spare you the time and boredom of my words. Let the feast begin!”  
It was a feast unlike anything Draco could have ever dreamed of. The tables were suddenly lined with more food than anyone knew what to do with. Ron was the first to dig in, scooping enormous piles of mashed potatoes onto his plate.   
Draco did the same, seeing no point in waiting any longer. He did not have to restrain himself here. He could eat whatever he wanted. On top of his potatoes, he grabbed multiple chicken legs and buttered rolls. Hermione had passed down a jug of pumpkin juice, which Draco took happily. Everyone was talking amongst themselves, eating as much food as possible. Ron seemed to have eaten the most, and he verbally expressed how ready he was for dessert multiple times already.  
“So what do you think our schedules will look like?” Hermione asked the surrounding boys. Ron did not pay her any attention. Fred and George were turned the other way, talking rather animatedly to a boy Draco assumed was Lee Jordan.  
Neville shrugged, opening his mouth to say something when Ron interrupted. “Who cares?” he said with a mouth full of food. Hermione glared at him, her lip upturned in slight disgust.   
“We’ll get our schedules tomorrow morning, Hermione,” Harry said lightly, waving her off.   
She huffed. “I can’t wait until tomorrow, I’m too excited.”  
“I am quite excited to start Charms,” Draco said now. He hadn't said much throughout the entire feast. “That is sort of like the beginning of the magical part, don’t you think?”  
“I’m just ready to use my wand,” Harry nodded, glancing at Draco.  
“I’m ready to go to sleep,” Neville muttered, staring vacantly at his empty plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GRYFFINDOR


	6. gryffindor

After a while, Dumbledore dismissed the feast and instructed Prefects to lead first years to their respective dorms. Draco was already not very fond of Percy, but being led by him made it worse. He was quite bossy and obnoxious. Not to mention, he had given Draco countless disgusted looks at the dinner table. Draco had a hard time believing he was even Ron’s brother.  
The Gryffindor dormitories were located in Gryffindor Tower, which was quite a ways away from the Great Hall. The castle was massive, much more massive than Draco ever imagined it was. The entire thing was enchanted, he knew. The portraits on the walls could speak and move, but that was nothing new for him. There were suits of armor in odd places in the hallways. Sometimes they could be heard squeaking, shifting ever so slightly. Staircases moved whenever they felt like it. There were doors that acted as walls, and walls that acted as doors. There was, as Draco had overheard from the Gryffindor table, a room that presented itself only when someone really needed it. The contents of the room were whatever the user need.  
“There’s the Fat Lady!” Harry whispered excitedly, pointing to a portrait on the wall. Draco looked at the portrait. The whole of the Gryffindor group had stopped in front of it. She was speaking to Percy.   
Percy turned around to address the group. “Behind this portrait is Gryffindor tower, where you will live for the next seven years. The password changes every week, so make sure you read the notice board inside to stay updated. Your trunks and everything will be upstairs in your dorms,” he explained, voice loud and important. Draco glared at him, hating his arrogance. “This weeks password is ‘perrywinkle’, don’t forget.”  
The portrait with the Fat Lady on it swung open, revealing a large hole in the wall. Kids began piling in, their gasps mingling with Draco’s own as they marveled at the sight of the common room. The circular room sported several shades of red and gold. A large fireplace sat to the left of the entrance dominating that entire wall, surrounded by many different kinds of armchairs and couches and poufs for your feet. The fireplace itself was adorned with a portrait of a roaring lion. There were many massive windows that overlook the grounds. From the walls hung scarlet tapestries depicting various legendary witches and wizards. There were also many tall bookcases filled with thick and thin novels alike.  
“Much cozier than that Slytherin dungeon would be, eh, Draco?” Ron said jokingly, nudging Draco with his elbow. The blond just rolled his eyes with a smirk. Draco knew the Slytherin dungeons were enchanted to be cold and slimey to outsiders. That’s what his father had told him, anyway.  
“Where are our dorms?” Harry asked loudly, hoping to catch an older students attention. Fred and George had taken off toward a winding mahogany staircase, so Ron shoved Harry and Draco in that direction. Hermione had already taken off, waving the boys goodbye before going up the opposite staircase.   
“Seventh floor, gentlemen,” Fred, or George - Draco wasn’t sure - said proudly, pointing to a very tall and dark door to their right. “We’ll be on the fifth floor.”  
The other twin, whichever he was, winked at the trio. “If you need us, just yell for us enough to annoy everyone else, and they’ll find us for you.” And like that, they set off down the stairs again. The seventh floor held all the first year boys, since the previous residents graduated from Hogwarts last year.  
“Watch out!” one of the twins exclaimed a few steps down. A large and familiar boy came into view. It was Neville. He seemed slightly out of breath, but presented them all with a cheesy grin anyway.  
“You guys don’t mind if I room with you, do you?” he asked sweetly.  
“Course not,” the trio replied without hesitation. Draco was pleased that Neville did not seem the least bit bothered by his existence.   
Draco caught Ron smirk. The redhead proceeded to push the door open in the most dramatic sense possible. Boys were running up and down the hall outside, exclaiming and marveling at the contents in their dorms. Draco followed Ron immediately, with Harry behind him and Neville bringing up the rear.  
The door widened to reveal a large, perfectly square room with four large poster-beds. The beds were covered in scarlet eiderdown blankets, with matching curtains hanging down from the posts. Nightstands sat next to each bed with their trunks at the foot of the beds. Draco was pleased to find his located right next to the biggest window in the entire room. A yellow banner with Gryffindor embroidered on it hung on top of their beds. Wooden chairs and matching dressers sat on the other side of the beds, opposite to the nightstands. Lamps sat atop the dressers, with a large bulletin board hanging on the wall above the dresser. The bulletin boards looked identical to the notice board down in the common room. They were left empty for, Draco assumed, the students to decorate. The walls were made of cool, gray stone, and dark wooden floors.   
Draco found Eris settled on top of his dresser, its wide, gray eyes, staring around the room. He breathed in all in, spinning until the backs of his knees hit his bed and he fell down on top of it.  
“It’s pretty great, isn’t it?” Harry said vaguely, grinning around the room as he began to undo his tie and remove his robes to reveal the matching white button up shirt everyone else had.   
“It’s just as great as Fred and George said it’d be,” Ron replied dreamily, pulling Scabbers, his rat, out of his robe pocket. “Ginny’s gonna lose it when she comes next year.”  
Draco rolled over onto his belly, holding his head in his chin to get involved with the conversation. “Is that the little girl who hugged you on the platform?” he asked.  
“Yep,” replied Ron. He set the sleeping rat down next to him.  
It was dark out already, the nearly full moon shining brightly through the window next to Draco’s bed. He could’ve fallen asleep right here, robes and shoes on and everything. He had never felt so peaceful. And to think, a few days ago he believed his fate would’ve been in Slytherin, with people who expected so much of him. Had he not made up his mind to make his own path, he would be laying in a poster-bed with green curtains and a banner with a silver embroidered snake above his head on the complete other side of the castle, more than seven stories below. He would be sharing a room with kids he did not know, did not want to know. He would end up just like his parents. His life would not be his own.  
Neville perked up now, rummaging through his trunk for pajamas. Trevor, his toad, sat on a dresser in a tall, glass tank. It looked rather lavish, for just a toad tank. “Draco, can I ask you something?” he asked politely, quietly, as if he were afraid. Harry and Ron leaned up from their beds, glancing nervously between the two boys. Draco found himself suddenly very anxious.  
“Sure, Neville,” he replied calmly.  
There was a pause. Draco knew everyone’s eyes were on him. Part of him already knew what Neville was going to ask.  
“Everyone knows Malfoy’s end up in Slytherin, s-so how did you - how did you get in Gryffindor?” he sputtered, staring daringly into Draco’s eyes. Draco, though he desperately wanted to, did not look away.  
“Well,” Draco began. “I’m not really sure.” His right pointer finger found itself in his white blond hair, twisting a particularly long piece just for something to do. “Something happened the day I got my acceptance letter that had me thinking about my future and what was to come, you know?” Draco glanced over at Harry who, thankfully, was staring at his own hands rather than at Draco. “Then the day I went to Diagon Alley with my father, it happened again. Something just clicked. I realized I didn’t want to be who my parents wanted me to be. My values changed.”  
His words were mature for an eleven year old. He hoped his friends could grasp what they meant, and know he was being sincere. As he finished speaking, he realized news would spread to his parents that he had been Sorted into Gryffindor. He did not want to think of what their reaction would be, or what they would do. Surely they wouldn’t come all the way to Hogwarts to yell at him? Perhaps they’d write a letter expressing their anger and profound disappointment. Or maybe they would do nothing at all.  
“The same thing happened to my godfather,” Harry spoke now, his voice soft and high pitched. Draco turned his way, searching for explanation in his green eyes.   
“Sirius Black,” Draco whispered.  
Harry nodded.  
“He’s my mother’s cousin.”  
“So he’s your cousin, too?” Harry inquired.  
“Yes.”  
Draco saw Ron grin. “Wicked.”  
He faked a matching grin, then turned back to Harry. “My family never speaks of him, but they’ve told me they don’t want me to be like him. My mother told me he was in Gryffindor, and that he ran away at sixteen.”  
“Well, she’s wrong,” Harry snapped. “He was disowned. All because he defied his family. He lived with my dad for a while.”  
Draco gaped at him. A sick feeling rested at the bottom of his stomach, something like regret and fear. He tore his eyes away from Harry, trying to swallow the anxiety in his throat. Neville looked around with his mouth open wide.  
“Do you think the same will happen to me?” Draco asked now, voice weak and cracking. He figured he could show his fear here, to his only friends, despite only knowing them for a short while.   
Harry stood up, catching everyone by surprise. He made his way to the bed next to his own, sitting down on the edge, next to the blond boy. Draco felt the bed shift under the small and sudden weight of Harry’s body.   
The boy, black hair wild and green eyes fierce, stared into Draco’s own stormy gray ones, looked ready to set the place on fire. His face was contorted, but not in anger. It was determination, Draco realized, etched onto his young features. The room was dead silent, but Draco swore his heartbeat was loud enough for everyone to hear.  
“You’ll never be disowned. Know why?” Harry’s eyes did not soften. “Because you’ll always have a family with me.” He then gestured to the other boys. “With us.”  
Harry leaned over, hugging Draco in a way he’d never experienced before.  
“Group hug!” Neville exclaimed, bolting off his bed and catapulting himself onto Harry and Draco, flattening them both. Shortly after, Ron joined, with enough force to knock the breath out of everyone, including himself.  
The four erupted into giggles, gentle at first, but quickly evolved into violent laughter. Neville even fell off the bed.  
I’m going to be fine, Draco told himself as he smiled at the boys around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love them so bad are we kidding


	7. potions

“First years, here are your schedules!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed over the bustling group of children. Harry reached over Hermione’s head to grab his own. The other tables in the Great Hall were nearly empty except for, of course, groups of confused first years.   
Hermione took her schedule with a nervous shimmer in her eye, but an overly excited smile playing on her lips. Ron took his and stared at it, looking more lost than anyone else in the Hall. McGonagall handed Draco his own, then moved on with a subtle nod of her head.  
“Charms,” Neville said, reading his slip of parchment.  
“Professor Flitwick,” Hermione finished.  
Harry stood up abruptly, grabbing his bag that was leaning against Draco’s leg and tossing it over his shoulder. The group of five headed out of the Hall following closely behind Harry, who led them with purpose and seemed like he knew where he was going.  
The caretaker of Hogwarts, Argus Filch, stood outside the doors with an ugly look on his face as he held his cat, Ms Norris, close to his chest. He had a hunch in his back, with long, greasy mousy brown and gray hair. He looked like he wanted to murder every student that passed him. Draco caught his eye, then looked away equally as fast, quickening his pace to walk step in step with Harry Potter.  
Some classes, Houses would intermingle. Like Potions, as McGonagall explained. Gryffindor first years would be split into two groups. One group would go to Potions, where they’d have class with a group of first years from another House. The other group would go somewhere else and do the same thing.  
Draco looked back down at his schedule, thanking the stars he had the same classes as his friends around him. He saw they had Potions after Charms with, to his utmost dismay, the Slytherins. He groaned out loud, causing Ron to give him a weird look.   
“Potions with Slytherin,” he explained. A collective groan sounded throughout his group.  
Charms was taught in a very large room with tall, skinny windows on three walls. Luckily, it was on the first floor of the castle, and not particularly far from the Great Hall. The view was of the lake, vast and dark and deep. Just looking at it, even from this distance, made Draco nervous.   
The desks held three kids each, unfortunately. They were placed in a very wide rectangle, with Professor Flitwick at the very front, completing the rectangle. His desk was larger than their desks, which hardly seemed necessary, given how small Flitwick really was. He was about as tall as Draco’s waist, which was far from tall at all.  
He had a long and pointed mustache, that curled at the ends. His hair was dark brown and split directly down the middle. His robes were exceptionally tiny. Draco recognized him as the wizard that sat by Hagrid last night at the feast. Hagrid, Draco had learned earlier that morning, was the Care of Magical Creatures professor as well as Groundskeeper. He taught his classes out by his house, downhill from the main lawn outside the castle.  
Flitwick introduced himself, telling his class he had been teaching for over twenty years, and that he was Head of Ravenclaw.   
“Charms is one the most important classes you’ll ever take here at Hogwarts,” he explained with his squeaky voice. “Here, you will learn spells of all kinds, from basic to incredibly complex. Please pull out Standard Book of Spells and turn to page two.”

X

Charms ended faster than Draco wanted. It was much more interesting than he had originally expected and he knew it would be a lot of fun as the year went by.  
The group of five exited the classroom, Harry leading the way to Potions. Neville had his wand out, whispering Lumos to it. The end of his wand lit up like a flashlight until he whispered Nox, and the light went out. Draco walked slowly behind the group to walk with Neville, practicing the spell with him and pretending to duel like their wands were swords.  
The Potions classroom was all the way in the dungeons, a bit too close to the Slytherin dormitory for Draco’s liking. When they arrived, Slytherins were already outside waiting, not having any trouble in finding the classroom. They were huddled together looking a little too arrogant for first years. Draco let his friends walk in front of him, combining with the other Gryffindors. Harry had paid no attention to the group of silver and green kids, he was too busy whispering to Ron and Hermione about his mother being the professor.  
Draco leaned against the crisp dungeon wall next to Ron and Neville, hoping to the stars than none of the Slytherin kids noticed him or his obnoxiously bright white hair. The darkness of the dungeon, if anything, made his hair and his paleness stand out even more. Neville murmured Lumos one more time and washed Draco in wandlight.   
A skinny, dark kid stepped out of the group of Slytherins, his tie undone and hanging over his shoulders. He was chewing a piece of gum, holding his chin annoyingly high. Draco did his best to ignore him. That was, until he started speaking.  
“Is that Malfoy I see?” he called, arms crossed as he smirked back to his group of goons. “Mingling with - oh? - a Weasley? And - tell me it’s not so - Harry Potter?” he sneered. The boy stepped farther out of his group and closer still to Draco.   
Neville had stepped forward indignantly. “What about it?”  
Ron had shoved off the wall as angrily as any eleven year old could. “What about it?” he barked at the same time as Neville. Harry grabbed Ron’s arm, while Hermione grabbed the other, and pulled him backward to the wall. Is this what being a Gryffindor was? Being ready to tussle with anyone who looked at you funny? Or was that just a Neville and Ron thing?   
“Shove off,” Harry hissed, the same fierce look in his eye as last night.   
Draco heaved a sigh, almost laughing at the hilarity of it all, stepping away from the wall himself. He stood straight backed, his chin held high. He stared into the boy’s eyes. They were threateningly dark, along with his chuckle that spilled over his lips.  
“A Malfoy? In Gryffindor? What a disgrace,” he spat. Suddenly, Draco knew who the boy was. He had been to his house before with his ridiculously tall father. The visit didn’t last long. All Draco learned from it was that this kid’s last name was Zabini.  
“What’s it to you?” he snapped back, already tired of this. It was Monday and eleven year olds were already coming after him. And Slytherins, of course it was the Slytherins.  
“Your parents won’t be pleased with this -” he gave his friends a disgusted look, “- friend group of yours.” A few of Zabini’s friends were chuckling now. A pale girl with perfectly straight, short, jet black hair jumped forward to point an accusing finger at Hermione.  
“It’s that Muggle girl!” she yelled. Draco bristled. “Lucius might just have to throw you out onto the streets, Draco. What will Mummy think? If you brought home a Muggle? The shame,” she hissed mockingly, spinning a piece of hair around her thin, pale finger.  
Zabini smirked at Hermione, who was still standing tall despite what was going on. Neville, Ron, and Harry were yelling things at Zabini and his group, as his group threatened to curse them all right back. Draco’s cheeks felt like they were on fire from embarrassment.   
“Draco Malfoy befriending a Mudblood? What have you come to?” Zabini exclaimed proudly. But before the entire sentence could come out, the Gryffindor group erupted into angered yells, spitting and jumping forward with a blazing fire in their eyes. Even some of the Slytherins looked bothered, shoving people away from them and yelling in each others faces.  
That one word was all it took for Draco to lose it.  
While Hermione and Neville held Ron and Harry back, Hermione hiding the tears prickling in her eyes quite well, Draco had run forward as Zabini was looking over his shoulder, arrogantly chuckling with two other boys. Zabini turned back to Draco’s direction just in time for Draco to punch him square in the eye.  
Despite having no muscle and small, eleven year old hands, Zabini screamed and fell to the ground. Harry had gotten loose, too, and joined Draco in jumping on top of the already in pain child to hammer into him some more. Maybe this was a Gryffindor thing, not just a Ron and Neville thing.  
Draco hadn’t even noticed Harry jumping in to help Draco in pounding their knuckles onto Zabini’s face and into his stomach. Blinded by his rage, he keep throwing his fists and kicking violently even after being grabbed around the torso and pulled upward by large arms.  
“All of you, get into the classroom! Now!” a woman’s voice yelled. “You three are in serious trouble.”   
Her voice was nowhere near Draco. When he opened his eyes, he realized he was not being held captive by Lily Potter. She had hold of Harry’s wrist in one hand, with Zabini’s in the other as the two gasped for breath, still trying to reach for each other. Draco was placed down, his own wrist encased with a hand much larger than his own. He looked up, hair splayed across his forehead and sweat dripping carefully past his eyes.  
Draco saw the man holding him and recognized him as the professor Harry pointed out last night. The man with the perfectly groomed black hair that had winked at the Slytherin table.  
Regulus Black.  
“I can’t believe you, Harry, on your first day!” Lily Potter groaned quietly.  
“Mom, listen, you don’t understand -”  
“Professor Potter, please, I didn’t do anything wrong, I was just -”  
“Minding your own business, Zabini? I’m sure,” she snapped.  
Draco could deal with detention, or whatever punishment they were going to give him, but he didn’t know if he would survive if Hogwarts sent a letter to his parents telling them of his misbehavior.  
Lily and Regulus had led the boys, Harry and Zabini arguing they entire way, to Professor Dumbledore’s office. The office was behind a stone wall guarded by two gargoyles who asked what they were there for. Lily told them they needed to speak to Dumbledore as Regulus knocked on the door.  
Draco was terrified. Harry had not looked at him a single time until that point, rage still burning in his eyes. Draco hung his head, almost wanting to laugh at his predicament.   
A Malfoy would never jump into a fight like that. A Malfoy fights only when necessary.   
A Malfoy wouldn’t have even fought someone for using that word, he thought fiercely.  
The stone door slid open and Draco found his heart beating just as hard, if not harder, than it had when he went up to get Sorted. This was terrible. The predicament was awful, and getting taken to the Headmaster’s office made it so much worse.  
But in the end, Draco realized, he didn’t regret it. He would do it again, if need be. He smirked to himself as he caught a glimpse of Zabini’s swelling eye. If only he could’ve used his wand. He could’ve used some sort of terrible hex that made his skin break out in itchy hives, or make him get chased by flying bogeys.  
“Fighting in the Potions hall, sir. Professor Potter was going to teach their class and I was going to the dungeons when we heard the lot yelling and cheering,” Regulus explained. His voice was deep and clear, sounding important and highly intimidating. Draco looked up at him, unsure if he should scowl and be furious at him for ratting him out, or if he should watch in awe.   
Dumbledore wore a very amused look, the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly. His bright blue eyes slid over Zabini, then to Harry, his lips lifting again, then they landed on Draco. He knew he must look a mess, robes hanging awkwardly off one shoulder with his sort of sweaty hair plastered to his forehead. He wondered if Dumbledore could see the rage in his eyes.  
“Oh, dear,” was all he said for a while.  
“Sir,” Zabini jumped in, voice shaky. “They came at me first, I was just -”  
“That’s a lie!” Draco burst out, surprising everyone, including himself. “He had it coming!”  
“Yeah! He used a word, he called Hermione the M word, he had it coming!” Harry joined in, leaving Lily looking quite helpless.  
“I did not! How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” Zabini shouted incredulously, feigning a hurt look on his face.  
“Enough!” Regulus snapped loudy. All three boys cowered involuntarily. “That is all, Professor. We will deal with our students however we see fit,” he finished calmly, giving Dumbledore a friendly smile, inclined his head, then notioned for Lily to follow him out of the office.   
Regulus began pulling Draco away, a hand on his shoulder, but Draco turned and faced Dumbledore, face tugged down in helplessness and desperation. “Sir, please, don’t write my parents, please, I’ll - I’ll do anything, sir -”  
Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him.  
“They can’t know, I don’t know how they’ll react and I can’t . . .” his voice trailed off.  
“As Headmaster, it is my duty to inform parents and guardians of their children’s misdoings -” Dumbledore spoke calmly, but was cut off by Draco.  
“Please, sir,” he begged, feeling everyone’s eyes burn into the back of his head. “If they find out, they’ll ask questions. They might even come here to make a scene, they’ll find out I’m in Gryffindor, they’ll know I take classes with Sirius Black and Lily Potter,” his said, voice shaking. “They’ll know who I’m friends with. I don’t want that -”  
“What is wrong with your friends?” Dumbledore asked, quite stupidly, and gestured to Harry.  
Draco was seething now. That same bubbly rage was boiling in the pit of his stomach once more. “Nothing, sir, that’s why I’m here -”  
Dumbledore sat up straight in his chair, heaving a sigh that reached his eyes behind his half moon spectacles. Before he could open his mouth, Lily intervened. At this point, Zabini looked beyond annoyed with having to stay here and deal with this. Harry looked lost and confused, and Regulus had the same look of intimidation on his face.  
“I’m acting his guardian, sir. No need to send mail to anyone,” she said smoothly. Draco and Harry’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Was she defending him again? Mom-ing him?  
“Professor Potter -” Dumbledore started, eyebrows scrunched in disbelief.  
“Thank you, sir,” Lily said curtly before taking off quickly with Harry and Zabini in hand. She led them out of his office, followed closely by Regulus and Draco, who did not dare look back. He could’ve swore he heard Dumbledore chuckle as the stone door shut behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mom lily potter coming thru


	8. first year

Despite the year getting off to a rough start, it went smoothly until Christmas break. Sort of. Not really.  
Draco had received a letter, delivered by his owl, Eris, from his parents about a week after his first fight with Zabini. When he first got hold of it, he almost wanted to set it on fire, but curiosity kept him from doing so. The letter was not a Howler, which was a letter than would scream the contents of the letter and rip itself apart afterward. If a Howler was not opened in a minute after receiving it, it would blow itself up. It was a simple letter that contained only a few, short, gut-wrenching sentences.

Draco,  
We have received word of your placing in Gryffindor. Know we are keeping an eye on you, and that you cannot hide things from us. Do not befriend that Potter boy, instead make friends with others. I heard Zabini’s son is in your year. We expect you home for Christmas.   
Mother & Father

A Howler had, in fact, been sent to Harry Potter. It was from his father, James. Draco expected the worst; he and Neville covered their ears when it dropped ominously on Harry’s breakfast plate. Harry looked mortified.  
“Open it, Harry, or it’ll explode!” Neville said hurriedly. Harry grabbed the letter by the tips of his fingers, eyes squinted in case it blew up anyway. Neville had his eyes closed as Ron and Hermione watched in both awe and terror.

“HARRY, MY SON! YOUR MOTHER SENT AN OWL SAYING YOU GOT INTO A FIGHT ON YOUR VERY FIRST DAY AT HOGWARTS! HONESTLY, I’M NOT SURPRISED, BUT YOUR MOTHER IS DISAPPOINTED SO I HAVE TO FAKE BEING DISAPPOINTED, TOO! SORRY, SON! IF IT HAPPENS AGAIN, UH, JUST - JUST DON'T DO IT AGAIN, OKAY?! TELL SIRIUS AND REMUS AND REGULUS I SAID HELLO! AND LILY! I LOVE YOU HARRY!”

The letter fell out of Harry’s fingers, landed on his plate again, then began to rip itself apart. The shreds were set aflame and dissolved into nothing. Harry’s face and ears were a shade of scarlet that would put the Weasleys’ hair to shame. The entirety of the Great Hall was staring at him. Then, Sirius and Remus stood from their chairs, causing eyes to turn their way, and began to clap and cheer. Lily, Draco noticed, was sporting that same scarlet color.  
Sirius Black blew a kiss to the sky and said, “I love you, James!”  
Regulus, sitting next to Lily and Remus, had a smirk on his face, which he fought to hide.  
Remus gave Harry a wink as Regulus and Lily began forcing him and Sirius back into their seats. Kids had joined in with their laughter and cheering. Professors all down the table were grinning from ear to ear except for McGonagall. She had her head in her hands.  
That was the only Howler sent all semester.  
Potions was just as great as Draco wanted it to be, and with Professor Potter teaching (she asked Draco to just call her Lily), it was more fun than it was supposed to be. Though he and Zabini got into another scuffle that resulted in taking away fifty House points each and getting detention for two weeks again. Their detentions were usually spent in the library with Madam Pince, the librarian. She made them dust shelves and place books back where they belonged for at least three hours each night. She also made them do opposite sides of the library, thank the stars. After receiving his letter from -- his parents, he made sure he did not get into any more physical fights. His own fear kept him out of trouble . . . mostly.  
Charms with Flitwick had been getting better and significantly harder. Harry and Ron had a hard time with some spells, and Ron’s wand was quite temperamental. Hermione and Draco seemed to get everything almost instantly, and at this point in the year, no one was really surprised.  
Transfiguration with McGonagall was nearly just as interesting as Potions was with Lily. Draco sat by either Harry or Neville in each of these classes. Neville was terrible at Potions, but both Hermione and Draco did their best to help him. Ron was awful at Transfiguration, but Draco did not have the patience like Hermione did to help him. Herbology, taught by Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff, was a class Draco did not particularly like. Neville loved it, helping Draco to the best of his ability.   
History of Magic was a class Draco never could’ve been prepared for, taught by Sirius Black himself. He was a boisterous man, but far from obnoxious. He was quite intimidating, but in a different way than that of his brother, Regulus. He could be overwhelming with his energy and readiness. For eleven year olds, his energy was exactly where it needed to be for the most part.   
First year Gryffindor’s met Professor Black on the second day of school, at ten in the morning. Everyone had finally woken up after Potions, but were dreading going to a class that had ‘history’ in its name. They had walked in, Harry eager to sit somewhere close, rushed in with Ron and Draco close at his heels. They sat in a column in separate desks to the far left of the room. Harry in front, Ron behind him, then Hermione, then Draco, and Neville taking up the rear.   
“Alright, listen up, nerds,” Professor Black started quite loudly. “I know history sounds lame to you kids, but you’ve never been taught by me. We’re about to make magic history the most interesting class you’ll ever take in your years here at Hogwarts.”   
He looked very proud of himself and his mini-speech. Draco watched as he scanned the room, felt his heart race as his dark eyes landed on him. Then, thankfully, they darted to Harry, and a broad grin spread from ear to ear on him. “Harry, my boy!” he exclaimed, widening his arms. “It’s been, what, two weeks since I’ve seen you? It’s been so long, you’ve grown so much!” The class broke into laughter as Sirius himself chuckled and shot Harry a wink.  
Defense Against the Dark Arts was the second most interesting class, taught by Remus Lupin, who also seemed to know Harry quite well. Teachers knowing Harry meant teachers knowing Draco, along with all their other friends. Draco knew Sirius must’ve thought it was odd, seeing his godson befriend his cousin and a Malfoy, but he did not question it. Nor did Remus.  
Remus, when he began his class, told them of a war that had been fought not long ago against Voldemort and how dangerous the Dark Arts were, as well as the importance of knowing how to defend yourself in that situation, even if you never actually come into contact with Dark Magic. Draco liked him very much, his calm and gentle mannerisms along with his quiet voice. Draco knew there was something off about him, the twitch in his fingers, the scars on his face and arms, but was well aware there was nothing to be afraid of. Dumbledore would never hire someone he thought to be a danger, right?  
All in all, the semester was great. He was learning things he had dreamt of for months. They got to study for quizzes on the grounds, before it got cold, of course. Harry had found a very tall, very old tree with long branches that expanded at least twenty yards. There, the group of friends found the perfect place to study, to rest, and to hang out. It was in the front of the grounds, and the lake could not be seen, to Draco’s pleasure.  
In the cold months, they found themselves huddled in the Common Room in squishy armchairs around the fire. Neville sometimes squeezed into a chair with Hermione to show her something in one of their textbooks. Ron was often on the ground by Harry’s feet, sometimes asleep when he should’ve been doing homework. Draco could not have been more pleased with the people he had found and claimed as friends.  
Neville, the small and chubby boy with fixed black hair and wide, soft brown eyes. The boy with dirt under his fingernails from Herbology class that he had far too much fun in. the boy with slightly singed eyebrows from failed potion brew. The boy who hated flying on broomsticks and hid his fear of the dark. He had admitted it to Draco one morning in the Great Hall, followed by “You seem like someone I can trust with that information, you know?”  
Hermione, the girl as tall as all of them except for Ron, with enormous, brown bushy hair and matching eyes. The girl who seemed to know all, and baffled her classmates daily. Some often asked why she had even come, since she already knew everything. She answered with a “You can always learn more.” The girl with a sharp tongue, who kept her impulsive friends out of trouble as much as she could. The girl who stood tall in the face of discrimination, despite being eleven years old. She came to Hogwarts, already knowing what reaction she might get out of certain people.  
Ron, the boy who was almost as tall as his third year twin brothers, long limbed and spattered in a ridiculous amount of freckles that went well with his flaming red hair. The boy with more siblings than Draco could keep count of, with robes that reached his ankles and was embroidered with red and gold at the sleeves. He had a temper, and was rather protective of his friends, always ready to follow them anywhere. Draco was sure that if Harry asked them to follow him into the Forbidden Forest on the edges of Hogwarts grounds, Ron would be the first to trail after him.   
And Harry, the Boy Who Lived, with insanely messy and thick jet black hair and ferocious green eyes that were almost too bright to be realistic. The boy with a Potions professor as a mother, and a godfather as a History of Magic professor, along with two men that were basically his uncles as professors along. The boy whose family outran death itself. The boy who would never stand down in the face of fear, who would take hate from others with his chin held high and his eyes gleaming with a well hidden rage. The boy who had befriended Draco Malfoy, when the world and all its odds were stacked against the possibility.   
And then there was Draco himself. Born from and raised by monsters in the dark. Taught to hate Muggle-born witches and wizards, to believe that he was a superior being simply because of blood status, to walk with his back straight and his chin held high, to never break eye contact with someone or flinch away. He was taught never to trust anyone, to stand up only for his family and himself, to put his own safety and wants before others. To do whatever it takes when clawing his way to the top.  
Instead of doing as he was trained, he did what he wanted. He befriended the Boy Who Lived, a Weasley, and a Muggle-born. He fought a kid his parents knew because he called Hermione a slur, and continued going against his parents word even after they had sent a letter saying they had been watching his every move. Part of him wanted to doubt it, because Hogwarts was so well protected, but another part knew they were telling the truth. The newfound bravery in his heart told him he was safe here, far from their reach, until he remembered he had to go home for the summer.  
Draco sorely wished he could stay at Hogwarts, in the confines of his cozy dorm room that he had made his home. He thought about how much fun they’d all had n his birthday just a week ago, and how deeply he’d miss it. He considered writing a letter telling his parents he’d never come back at all, but the idea vanished as quickly as it came. Draco had never thought about running away before. He simply just didn’t want to go home because he knew nothing but an ice cold home would welcome him, even despite the June heat.   
Draco made sure to say his goodbyes on the Hogwarts Express, so his parents could not see him hugging them. Harry hugged him the hardest, scrunching up the back of Draco’s robes in his fists. Hermione was near tears as she waved them off. He gave Ron a side hug, and intended to do the same with Neville until the boy engulfed him completely, thanking him for helping him in Potions.   
As the train pulled into the station, Draco could feel his heart increase in speed, pounding against his thin chest beneath the robes he had been too tired to take off. He saw the Weasley family just outside, heads flaming and arms flailing violently. Draco insisted his friends get off first, so it didn’t look like they’d been sitting together.   
Trunk in hand, he took a deep breath, and headed out of their compartment a few minutes after Harry and Ron. He was nearly at the exit when Lily Potter caught up to him. She looked slightly out of breath, like she’d ran to get to this point.   
“Professor,” Draco said politely, inclining his head and gesturing to the door so she would go first. Lily did not move.   
“I told you to call me Lily,” she said plainly, a motherly smile dancing on her lips. Draco said nothing, thinking about professionality before she went on with her speech.  
“If you need anything at all, feel free to send an owl, okay?” Lily asked, her voice lowered as she leaned her head down to be closer to eye level. “I mean it,” she stated. The way she said it left no room for questions, then she took off ahead of him and left the train. Draco swallowed hard and followed shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lucius malfoy can suck my toes


	9. the break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this is pasting in the right format whoops

The trip home had been instant and very quiet. His mother gave him a small side hug upon seeing him, told him happy holiday and good to see you. His father did nothing but smile faintly at him before taking hold of his arm, while Narcissa grabbed his other arm, and they were pinched out of sight and squished through space and time until they arrived back at Malfoy Manor.   
The house loomed overhead, the surrounding hedges still shifting ominously as wary birds flew high above. The gates opened wide at the sight of them, Lucius waved his hand ever so slightly before taking swift steps to enter through. The house itself was still overwhelmingly large and unwelcoming, a massive blanket of dark clouds lay across the sky to add to the existing gloom. Draco was sure rain was on its way. He could feel it in the air. The heat stuck to him like glue, making him feel gross and trapped underneath his robes.  
Not even the heat could diminish the cold feel of the house.  
The three entered the house with a resolute silence. Draco felt an aching in his heart. He wanted to go back. Back to his friends, to Hogwarts, to his real home. He wanted to go back where he belonged and where he felt loved.   
They all went their separate ways once inside. Narcissa went to the kitchen, Lucius went down the hall opposite the staircase leading to Draco’s room. Up he went, wanting to use his wand to help him carry his things up the stairs. It was, as he learned in History of Magic, illegal for a person under the age of seventeen to perform magic outside of school, except in cases of emergency. Eris snapped his beak every time his cage bounced when Draco’s trunk his the next stair.  
Head hung low still, he continued up the steps until he felt both his owl and his trunk lifting out of his hands. Draco whipped around to see his father’s wand aimed at the floating trunk which was rounding a corner with Eris on top.   
“Thank you,” Draco said before turning back around to go after the trunk. He expected to be left alone, but his father’s footsteps followed him to his room. Draco wasn’t sure how to act. He found his fingers twisting and pulling at a loose string on the cuff of his robes. Just as soon as his fingers touched the string, there was a sizzling sound and Lucius had fixed the string with his wand and a small mutter of a spell. Then the man stood up straight, hiding his wand in an inside pocket of his traveling robes. His height intimidated small, eleven year old Draco just as much as it always had. He wondered briefly if he would ever be as tall as his father.  
“I wanted to speak to you about something,” Lucius said gruffly, his voice just as intimidating as his height. Draco sat on the edge of his bed and found it stiffer than he remembered. He lifted his chin gently, finding courage in the pit of his stomach to look his father dead in the eyes. He tried to ignore the small bit of white hair falling into his eyes. Surely Mother would want to cut it over break. It had gotten so long it now covered his ears and his eyes when he didn’t fix it.  
“About what, Father?”  
“About your actions at school,” Lucius hissed. “Fighting Zabini, more than once. Getting sorted into Gryffindor. And don’t even start me on that Potter boy, Draco!” His voice had risen considerably in a short amount of time. Draco tried not to flinch.  
“I don’t see what Gryffindor has to do -”  
“We raised you different!” Lucius howled, his face straining as he tried and failed dramatically to hide his rage. “And fighting Zabini’s son, a good friend of mine -”  
“He called her a Mudblood!” Draco yelled.  
Lucius seemed to falter. “You fought the son of my good friend for - for that?”  
Draco squinted at him, instantly realizing his mistake.  
“Who did he call that? Who, Draco?”  
He contemplated jumping out of his window, trying to calculate how fast he would have to be to outrun his father’s wand.  
“Hermione.”  
Lucius did not register the name, he did not know her. Draco would never say her last name out loud, just for safety reasons.  
“You - you befriended a Mudblood? Have we taught you nothing?”  
“Don’t call her that,” Draco said through gritted teeth.  
“Are you going to fight me, too, Draco? Just like Zabini’s boy?” Lucius chuckled, acting like Draco had never seen him act before. It was odd, the laugh sounding mechanical and taunting. “Come on, show me what you’ve got,” he hissed, his wand now gripped tightly in his hand and pointed directly at his son’s face.   
Draco, had he not been sitting down, was sure his knees would’ve given out instantly. He was eleven years old, life had been looking up, until he returned home, and now his own father was pointing his wand in his face. Draco had just a split second to decide how he was going to respond. He could stay sitting, keep his wand tucked up his sleeve, tell his father this isn’t what he wanted. Or he could stand up, let his wand fall into his tiny fist, and raise it to meet his father’s own.   
Performing magic outside of school was not allowed under any circumstance. In following the latter, he could risk being expelled from Hogwarts. For that to be decided, he’d have to be taken to the Ministry of Magic in London. He could tell them it was an act of defense. He could tell them how much he did not want to live with his parents anymore, that his father threatened to duel with him when he knew it was illegal for his son to participate.   
In that split second, Draco remembered both Ron and Harry’s father’s worked at the Ministry. James Potter himself could escort Draco to the ministry, help him present his case and say that it was nothing but self defense.  
“Expelliarmus!” Draco shot up from his bed, wand falling into his hand and pointing it directly at his father, yelling the spell he learned from his spellbook. Professor Flitwick told them it was the most basic Disarming Spell they’d ever learn, and that if it was strong enough, your opponents wand would shoot out of their wand and fall directly into your own.   
Draco yelled the spell with such a ferocity that Lucius’s wand did exactly that.  
The wand landed in his left hand. He nearly dropped it because he was shaking so badly. The look on his father’s face was priceless, his wand hand lingering in the air. His eyes widened in shock, hand falling to his side. Lucius chuckled again, this time more threatening and dangerous sounding.  
Draco wanted to tell him he was sorry, that he wasn’t thinking. He wanted to give him his wand back, melt into the ground, tell him to do whatever he wanted and that he deserved the worst.  
“Give me my wand back, Draco,” Lucius held out his hand, taking one enormous step forward as he looked down upon his son. Draco’s fear was powerful, but the rage he still felt doused it out. There was no time and no room for fear. Not now, not ever.   
Lucius lunged at him, reaching for his sons small arms. Draco knew he was bigger and stronger, so he scoured his mind for some kind of spell or hex that would occupy Lucius long enough for him to get away. Draco wondered briefly what his mother was doing.  
Then he remembered Neville getting cursed by some older Gryffindor with the Jelly-Legs curse, which caused his legs to collapse underneath him. He was too distracted by the fact that his legs could not function enough to allow him to stand to try to hit the kid with some other spell.  
Draco bounded out of the way, gripping both wands tightly. He heard Lucius’s feet stomp hard on the floor followed by Eris hooting nervously. Draco turned around, backing up to his door, and pointed his wand at Lucius once again.   
What was that stupid curse?  
“Locomotor Wibbly!”  
Lucius’s eyes widened, gray with fear as his long legs crumpled underneath him. It looked like his knees and ankles turned to actual jelly, wobbling until they gave out entirely. His upper body hit the wooden floor with an almost deafening crash.   
Draco took his chance to grab things for a letter, trying to drown out the sounds of Lucius yelling at him, telling him to give his wand back, to fix his legs, calling for Narcissa. Draco spared him one last look before running out of his bedroom, unlocking Eris’s cage with one small spell and calling for the owl to follow him. He figured since he was already in trouble for one spell, he might as well go out with a bang.  
Eris flew over his head and followed Draco into the bathroom far down the hall. He locked the door and fell against it, sliding all the way to the floor. He let the things he had been carrying hit the floor. Draco placed Lucius’s wand gingerly to the side, hating the sight of it, and tucked his own back into his robes. The inkwell was the only other thing he placed down properly.   
After making sure he was planted firmly against the locked door, he took the small piece of parchment and flattened it on the cold, marble floor. Quill in his shaking hand, he dipped it into the ink and began scribbling a letter.

Harry,  
Something bad’s happened. I used magic against my father. He was taunting me, I stole his wand and used the jelly legs curse to get away so I could write this letter to you. The Ministry will be after me soon, they’re going to want me expelled. I know your father works there and I ask you now that if they come for me, please ask James to be the one to do it. He’ll understand it was self defense. He’ll help me keep from getting expelled. I hate asking this of you but you’re my only hope. Please help me.  
Draco

The handwriting was messy, covered in evidence of his shaking hand and splotched with ink spots. He had written quickly, jumping when he heard his mother call for Lucius and march up the steps. He jumped again when he heard her shout the spell to fix his legs, and again when he heard their angry steps coming toward him and yelling his name.  
Draco looked at Eris and handed the owl the letter, telling him to take it to Harry Potter as quickly as possible. Draco stood atop the toilet seat and slammed the window open, wincing as the voices came closer.   
“Go, go!” he hissed, pressing the owl on gently.  
The door creaked open, allowing his long limbed and dangerous-looking parents to walk in. Narcissa snatched Lucius’s wand off the ground rather violently, pressing it to his chest without taking her eyes off her son, who was still standing on the toilet looking rather suspicious with the window wide open.  
She opened her mouth and Draco prepared himself for the venom. Before she could get a single word out, a very large, screech owl appeared in the same window Eris had just escaped out of. It stuck out its very fluffy leg, showing the trio a letter with a gleaming silver seal on the front. It had The Ministry of Magic above the seal in wispy, thick black lettering.  
Draco hopped back on the toilet to slip it off the owl’s leg before either of his parents could testify. The owl hooted impatiently and took off as Lucius marched over and slammed the window hard enough Draco thought he might shatter.   
“Give me that,” Lucius huffed rather aggressively. Draco saw he was very disheveled, still not entirely trusting his own legs as he leaned against the wall and began to tear open the letter. Draco was sure he knew what it was, what it said. The contents could mean his freedom or his imprisonment, and it almost all depended on James Potter.   
“Where is your wand?” Narcissa asked silkily, her voice dripping off her tongue like thick and threatening venom. If he could convince himself, he’d really believe he could see a green, burning liquid seeping out of the corners of her mouth. Draco met her eyes with an equal intensity. He would not cower here. He could not submit to his fear now. She took another step forward, easing her way toward him where he stood on top of the closed toilet seat. If he had been watching as an outsider he might’ve laughed.  
“Up my sleeve,” Draco replied steadily, stepping down from the toilet.  
“Give it to me, Draco,” she hissed.  
“It won’t matter, Narcissa,” Lucius said now, loud and clear. The man turned to his shrinking son, now back to his small size on the floor. His gray eyes matched his father’s perfectly, and he hated it. Draco did not want to see himself reflecting in those eyes. He did not want to see himself in his father, and he most certainly did not want to ever become him. With his mother’s eyes, there was no reflection. There was no light, nothing to see. They were nothing but pits of emptiness. Draco wondered briefly if they had always been that way, or if, perhaps when she was younger, they were lighter in color.  
“The Ministry will destroy it when he goes in for a hearing to be expelled.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> realistic? not at all


	10. the hearing

The letter said an escort from the Ministry itself would be sent the following morning at 7 sharp. It did not say who they would send, so Draco prayed to anything that would listen that James Potter would be the one to take him from this hell-hole and keep him from getting expelled. The letter also said parents needed to attend with minors.  
Draco had gotten dressed early that morning, already sitting downstairs by the door. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a black button up shirt. The letter mentioned casual, Muggle attire, but knew if he wore the Quidditch shirt Ron had given him, his parents would riot. Draco was too tired to deal with them, seeing as they already took his wand from him. He had savored every last second with it until Narcissa snatched it from him last night. If things went horribly wrong today, Draco would never use his wand again. Or any wand, for that matter. Expulsion meant they break your wand and, depending on the severity of your crime, make sure you never get another wand ever again.  
Draco and Hermione had overheard some Hufflepuff kids talking about Newt Scamander being expelled from Hogwarts, but he was allowed to keep his wand. Then again, his expulsion, according to the Hufflepuff’s, occurred in the early 1900’s. Times had changed drastically since then.  
The massive grandfather clock at the end of the entrance hall ticked seven, and Draco nearly jumped out of his skin as a knock on the door filled his ears. He didn’t even wait for his parents to come answer the door. Standing on his hardly steady feet, Draco stepped up to the door and yanked it open wide. He was nearly blinded by the summer light filling up the dark hall and washing over him. Holding a hand in front of his eyes just enough to allow him to see, he let his eyes adjust to see the man standing in the doorway.  
“Hello, Draco.”  
His prayers had been answered. James Potter was standing on his front porch, looking the same as he had when Draco first saw him in Flourish and Blotts, with the exception of his clothes, which he had traded for a nice work suit. Hair wild enough to drive Narcissa up the wall, and crooked glasses that would make Hermione itch. The man smiled at Draco, and he saw Harry in his face.  
“I’m here by order of the Ministry. I’m to be escorting your son to his hearing on his expulsion,” he said stiffly, business-like. Draco watched James straighten as his parents appeared on either side of his shoulders.   
“We don’t want you,” Lucius hissed, looking James up and down with disgust burning in his eyes. Draco fought the urge to scoff.  
“I’m afraid you don’t get to make that choice, Mr. Malfoy,” James replied without missing a beat. “The letter said parents could accompany, but I will leave with Draco if you hold us up.”   
Draco’s mouth dropped slightly. James turned swiftly and, with a glance at Draco over his shoulder, motioned for him to follow. He followed immediately, nearly tripping over his own two feet. He wanted to turn and laugh in his father’s face. James Potter had made him look like a fool. 

X

Draco’s own father was a Ministry man, so he was not new to the place. They entered through a bright red phone booth, James and Draco first, then Lucius and Narcissa. James had spoken into the telephone, telling whoever was on the other side his name.   
“Welcome, James Potter and Draco Malfoy,” a monotone woman’s voice said loudly. The sound wasn’t coming from the phone, but from the booth itself. The change dispenser dropped two small name tags. They pinned them to their shirts as the booth began to lower into the ground.  
James took advantage of the moment of solitude with Draco. He leaned sideways and whispered, “Don’t be afraid. Your parents aren’t allowed to go in. Unfortunately, neither am I, but I have faith in you.”  
Draco turned to him, fear swimming in his throat. He almost thought he might vomit right here in the booth, all over James’s shoes. Thankfully it didn’t come.  
“You’ll be speaking in front of the Wizengamot. This is a small incident, so there won’t be many people in there. None that your father is close with, I know.” James was speaking fast, whispering even though they were alone.   
Draco knew the Wizengamot was the wizarding court and parliament. The people he would be facing were the equivalent of an American judge, along with some representatives from some of the different branches of the Ministry.  
“What do I tell them?” Draco asked tentatively.  
James eyes softened. “Whatever you want to tell them. Tell them how they’ve treated you, how it was self defense.”  
“Can I tell them I don’t want to live with them?”  
James seemed almost surprised; Draco had caught him off guard. “If that’s what you want to say, yes.”  
Draco nodded and breathed in as the door opened to the Ministry. The two stepped out and the booth went up to retrieve Lucius and Narcissa. It was a rather slow way of transportation, Draco noticed, despite it being invented by wizards.   
“Draco,” James started, looking unsure of himself. Draco looked up at him, white hair falling backwards and into his eyes. “If I may ask, where - where would you go? If they remove you from your parents home?”  
Draco hadn’t thought about it. The idea of telling the Wizengamot he didn’t want to live with his parents anymore had only just occurred to him. He thought about Sirius Black, who had simply just left his home without any explanation. His parents didn’t do anything to get him back, but Draco knew his parents wouldn’t let him go without a fight. They’d want to keep him forever, and would most certainly keep an embarrassment this large locked away forever. His reasons would have to be rock solid. The Wizengamot would need to be more than convinced that he could not stay in that house.  
Where would he go? He didn’t want to just stroll into the Potter’s house. He couldn’t just invite himself in like that, put another weight on their shoulders.  
Before he got the chance to reply, James began speaking again.   
“Well, you know - you could always, you know, uh, stay with us. At my house. Lily and I could take care of you, you see, if that’s what you would like to do, um -”  
Draco had never seen him look as nervous as he did now. Of course, he hadn’t been around him quite enough to know his mannerisms, but he knew James Potter was near fearless.  
He didn’t even register his words until he saw the booth carrying his parents come out of the ceiling and drop where it was supposed to be. James Potter led them to the massive room where the hearing was to take place. The door was tall and wide, intricately designed. Draco looked ever his shoulder at James one more time for comfort. Lucius and Narcissa lifted their chins, and Draco did the same. He squared his small, now-twelve-year-old shoulders and entered the room with ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> james potter is my son


	11. the escape

“You’re an embarrassment to this family.”  
Draco was shoving as many things as he could into one singular trunk. Hermione had taught him the charm to make the interiors of things bigger than they really were, but he wouldn’t dare do magic outside of school. Not again, not after what happened last time.  
The Wizengamot told him he would be excused of his crimes if he promised to follow the rules. Of course he had agreed. Another reason they excused him was because they knew who he was, whose son he was. Draco figured they wouldn’t want to upset their dear friend, Lucius. They didn’t want to listen to him when he began telling them the reason he had used magic underage in the first place. He tried telling them his father was coming after him, but they refused to hear a single bit of it. They told him to go home, back to his parents, and that they were sure he’d be perfectly safe with them.   
Upon leaving the hearing room, James had begun to rush toward him, to grab him before his parents did, but he wasn’t quick enough.  
“Hands off our son,” Narcissa had hissed in his face, rising to her full height and puffing out her chest. Draco winced as he remembered her grip on his wrist. “Don’t you come near him ever again.”  
She and Lucius had yanked him away, far from James’s reach. They took him all the way home without a single sound. Lucius had whispered spells to protect Draco’s window in case he tried to escape. Draco wanted to laugh in his face because he did not do the same to all the windows in the house, nor did he lock any doors.  
This idiocy allowed Draco to let Eris back into the house through a small, crusty window in one of the spare rooms. Eris had gone to Draco’s window first, but he told the owl to try a different one. When he landed on Draco’s arm, he hurried back to his room as quietly as he could. The owl had a letter tied to his leg.  
“You’re the best, Eris,” Draco whispered fondly as he took the letter into his own hands. Eris hooted softly in appreciation.   
He read the name and felt his legs turn to jelly.  
To DM, from HP  
He couldn’t rip it open fast enough.

Draco,  
Dad told me what happened. We’re coming to rescue you whether your parents like it or not. Be ready for us after dark.

The letter was vague, but promising. Draco pressed it against his chest, ducking his chin in breathing in as steadily as he could. His hair fell again, like curtains over his eyes. He gave himself a few seconds to gather himself, then rushed forward to his trunk. The sun was nearly set; the sky outside was caught between purple and red.   
This was why he was packing.  
Moving furiously, silently, he felt his heart hammer in his chest, threatening to break his entire rib cage. He wanted to throw up, his nerves on edge and everything inside him boiling. Draco wasn’t sure how Harry could pull this off. He was a kid, and the house was protected with strong magic. He wondered briefly if James would be helping him pull this off, but Draco didn’t want to think he’d risk losing his job just for a kid.  
Thankfully, most of his things were still packed. He found it incredibly hard to believe he was at Hogwarts just 48 hours ago, in the comfort of his four-poster bed and surrounded by kids he had grown to love. Now, he wasn’t sure where he’d be in the next two hours. Time felt like an illusion.  
Draco shoved anything and everything he could think of in his trunk. He didn’t have much aside from clothes and school things. Nothing of sentimental value, that is. He had plenty, but none of it meant much to him.   
He snapped the top shut, sitting on it to ensure it would close all the way. Then, Draco stood up and looked at his reflection in the wide window. It seemed to glimmer, radiating magic with the threatening hedges shifting in the back. He touched his hair that fell over his eyes, swiping it to the side. He tried to breathe himself in, remind himself that he was real and that this was not a fever dream.  
Anxiety was swelling in the pit of his stomach, trying to grow and swallow him whole. His best friend was sending a rescue mission from where he lived, all the way to Malfoy Manor, without even the slightest bit of second guessing. Harry had a way with words that made him sound very sure. Draco admired his fearlessness. Come to think of it, Draco only ever felt fearless with Harry, and his friends. When he was with them, or when he thought of them, he felt he was untouchable.   
With this thought in mind, Draco breathed in one more heavy breath, lifting his chin and straightening his stance. His eyes focused on the land below rather than his reflection. There was something in the sky, shiny and box shaped, coming toward the window. Draco thought for a second that perhaps he had made himself sick from nerves, and was beginning to imagine things.  
He sat back down on the trunk, rubbing his eyes a bit too hard. When he opened them, there were little spots clouding his vision. The box shape had gotten significantly closer. In fact, it was moving at an alarming speed. Did he want to get closer to see? Or did he want to turn tail and run as far as possible?  
Something in him, he figured it was the part that had wanted to be like Harry, made him move forward. His legs were moving on their own accord, bringing him to the ledge with his face nearly pressed against the glass. The box figure was not a box at all, but a car, a floating car, moving with outstanding speed. Draco squinted his eyes. He swore he could see people in that car.  
The car flew high out of the hedges reach with ease then swooped back down to become level with Draco’s bedroom door. He thought for a fleeting moment he might pass out right then and there. How had it made it past the hedges? How had it made it past the magical barrier?  
The car pulled up right next to his window, and the people inside were waving furiously.  
Eyes wide, Draco placed his hands on the ledge to hold himself steady. The crazy people driving said car were, in fact, his friends.  
Both Fred and George Weasley were in the front next to James, with Harry and Ron in the back seat. Draco wanted to cry at the sight. He had so many questions, like how they planned this so quickly and actually managed to pull it off, or if he would even be able to fit into the car with them.  
He wasn’t even sure what he was seeing was real.  
Harry, closest to him, rolled his window down and was leaning out of it, gesturing to Draco to come on out. Draco shook his head; this window was protected. He couldn’t escape from it.  
Draco sighed, reaching for the locks. Then, he grabbed the bottom of the window and forced it upward. To his surprise, it worked. The magic shield was outside the window, not on the window. It was like a clear curtain of water, rippling and sparkling in front of his eyes.  
“Draco! What is that?” Harry said, not even trying to keep his voice down.  
Draco looked up at him, trying to focus on his face through the shield. He could hear him, so maybe it would work the other way. He could tell Harry about the small window in the room on the North side of the house.  
“Keep our voice down!” Draco hissed. Harry’s eyes widened, so he assumed he could hear him. “There’s a small, square window on the North side of the house that isn’t blocked. Get over there without being seen. My dad is probably in his study in the basement, and my mom might be on the top floor. I’ll take my stuff to that room as quietly as I can.”  
Draco turned to grab Eris’s cage and lead them both to their safety when every single person in that car called after him.  
“Good luck,” they whisper-yelled.  
Draco looked at them over his shoulder with a grin and nodded.  
Eris’s cage in one hand, insanely heavy trunk in the other, Draco went forward, opening his door silently. The wooden floor wasn’t helping him as he was trying to be quiet; the trunk was dragging and making almost too loud scratching sounds.  
Draco reached the room, setting Eris down for a split second to shove open the door. He might’ve shoved too quickly because the sound that followed was terrible. It had squeaked far too loud, but he had come too far to run back to his room and pretend it didn’t happen. The house was too large for anyone to hear, because he couldn’t hear any raging footsteps start up or down any stairs.  
Sighing quietly, he shoved on, shutting the door much slower and locking it immediately. Turning quickly, he saw the car already waiting for him and, this time, it was not guarded by a magic shield.  
And there they were: his friends, waiting for him in that amazing floating car. Draco had many questions for every single one them, but he had to get there first. His blood was boiling under his skin, nerves on edge and limbs on fire. The exit was right in front of him now. One window, one trunk, one leap. That’s all it would take.  
The window was a bit too tall, but there was a chair underneath it that he used earlier to open it for Eris. Draco climbed onto the chair with ease, slamming the window upward with almost too much force. It was barely big enough to Eris’s cage to fit through; his anxiety was getting stronger, threatening to outweigh the adrenaline in his system.  
Draco picked up the cage and pushed it through, holding on for dear life. They were at least three stories up, but looking at the ground made it seem miles away. The window felt like it was shrinking on him. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get out on his own. Harry was leaning out of his window again, reaching for the owl cage. Draco caught a glimpse of the anxiousness on James’s face before passing the bird on.   
After Harry caught Eris and placed him in the trunk of the weirdly spacious car, Draco dipped back into the room and swallowed hard. He was shaking again. Of all the ways he had dreamed of escaping this place, doing it on a floating car three stories above the ground was never one of them. He knew now there was no way he’d be able to lift the trunk and push it out of the window. Draco wanted to laugh at his predicament. A floating car. He turned his back to the window, sinking against the wall and looking at the much too heavy trunk taunting him on the ground.  
“Draco?” Harry called anxiously, peering out of the car again. Draco was jealous of his lack of fear - again. This was why Draco could never play Quidditch. Heights were one of the things he hated most.  
“I - I don’t think I can get this trunk out of here,” Draco replied, cursing his voice were wavering even slightly. “I can try, I think -”  
“No, Draco, let me get in there to help, okay?” James intervened. Draco could hear the car rumbling, pulling closer to the window. There was the sound of the door opening, people shifting. Draco prayed they could get out of here with all ten toes. There was too much noise.  
Despite James’s warnings, Draco attempted lifting the stupid trunk anyway. He grabbed the handle, yanked upward and -  
Crack.  
One of the chair legs snapped, causing a chain reaction for the chair to lean in one direction, which made the other leg snap, sending Draco tumbling straight onto the dust covered floor, with the trunk falling after him. His face hit the ground hard. His head began to buzz. There was a lot of noise; someone crawling through the window, someone outside cursing, some footsteps from above.  
The footsteps sent him into flight or fight mode. Draco picked himself up off the floor, tasting blood in his mouth. He had scraped the entire left side of his face, his left forearm, and bit his tongue so hard he swore his teeth went straight through it and met in the middle. The floor in this room was not marble; it was rocks of different textures. It was rough, jagged, very painful.  
“Get out of the way, son,” James instructed, not bothering to be very quiet. He had his wand out, enchanting the trunk to send it through the window and finding its place in the trunk. Draco stood up, slightly dizzy and aching everywhere on his left side. Who’s idea was it to have rocky flooring in this room, anyway?  
James grabbed Draco’s right arm, trying to be gentle, and lifted him enough he could try to climb his way out. He had hold of the outside ledge and was climbing his way up when a voice sent ice down his spine.  
“Lucius!” Narcissa screeched, already aiming her wand at James. Draco squeezed his eyes shut as James dropped him back onto the ground. He pointed his wand directly between Narcissa’s eyes as she called for her husband one more time. James pushed Draco behind him, safe between his body and the rock wall. Harry was calling for his father as Ron tried to shut him up.  
“Don’t do this, Narcissa,” James said quietly, unblinking and unwavering. “Let me take him. You don’t want him here anyway. You know he doesn’t want to be here.”  
Draco felt his heartbeat in his throat. It was just by pure luck that Lucius was not here. He could be anywhere, but wherever he was, he was entirely clueless.  
“Get away from my son,” she hissed. James did not move. Narcissa peered around him and found Draco’s eyes. His pounding heart seemed to stop all together. “Come, Draco.”  
Draco couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move at all.  
“Don’t make me hurt him, Draco,” Narcissa purred threateningly. “Get away from the blood traitor, Draco.”  
Something snapped.  
“Don’t you dare!” he burst out, skin burning with a rage no twelve year old should ever have to experience. “Don’t you dare call him that!” He fought against James, trying to reach for her. He knew even if he could get a hold of her, it would do no good.  
Narcissa looked taken aback. Her eyes seemed to grow darker, if that was even possible. There was barely anything light in this room, aside from the hallway light pouring in, and the moon outside. The sun had long since set. Draco wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he swore her eyes were glowing with a hint of red.   
“Brainwashed by the Mudbloods, have you?” she tilted her head to the side like a curious cat.  
“Leave us, Narcissa! Let us go!” James exclaimed. “You nearly ruined a perfectly good kid, and for what? For blood supremacy?” he asked, taunting.   
“Give him to me!” Narcissa screeched violently.  
“No,” James replied calmly. He was still holding Draco back; Draco could’ve swore he could feel James’ heartbeat in his arm.  
“He’s not your son,” Narcissa whispered.  
“He’s as good as,” James murmured, tone firm and final.  
Narcissa, wand still raised, made a move to curse the both of them in one powerful sweep. She was too slow.  
“Petrificus totalus!” James threw the spell and shoved Draco out the window as quickly as possible.   
The car was as close to the wall as possible, and Harry was already prepared to grab him and pull him inward. One minute he was against a wall, listening to his mother’s body freeze entirely and fall onto the floor just like his trunk had, next minute was shoved through a window, grabbed by the arms, and pulled into the floating car.  
“It’s okay, we’ve got you now,” Harry kept repeating, arms around Draco’s shaking shoulders in a hug unlike any hug he’d ever received. “You can open your eyes now. You’re safe with us.”  
Draco could hardly breathe, let alone bring himself to open his eyes. He could feel the car encasing them vibrate softly, wobbly as it glided on air with ease. There were more voices sounding around him but his brain could only hear Harry’s.  
“Open your eyes,” he whispered. Draco could feel him leaning over him, pressing him back into the seat, hands still holding his shoulders.  
“He’s bleeding.”  
“He fell, you idiot.”  
“Why hasn’t he opened his eyes?”  
“He might be scared.”  
“Of what? He’s safe with us.”  
“Of the moving car, Ron.”  
Draco let one eye open at a time, adjusting to the sudden brightness coming from the overhead light. Harry’s head was obstructing it slightly. Everyone but James was facing him now. Both twins, leaned over the front seat, beamed at him. Ron was peering over Harry, worry in his eyes.  
He tried to swallow the desire to throw up everywhere as he leaned up to take the sight in. The car was much larger on the inside, yet, for some reason, everyone was really close to him. Draco licked his swollen lip, glancing over his shoulder to see his house one last time. The sight of it really made him sick, and turning his head that fast made it even worse.  
“Dad, I think he really hurt himself when he fell,” Harry said to James. Draco chuckled lightly, which caught Harry’s attention.  
“You think?” he replied, throat alarmingly dry.  
Everyone laughed at that.  
“We’ll be home soon. Molly and Arthur are there waiting for us to return. Molly and Lily will fix him right up.” James looked at Draco over the seat as Harry settled back into a normal position. “Why didn’t you wait on me like I told you to?”  
Draco shrunk a bit. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, but James cut him off.  
“I’m not getting you in trouble.”  
Draco inhaled sharply. “I was in a hurry, I guess.”  
James smiled and turned back around. “Won’t be long until we reach Godric’s Hollow.”  
“That’s where we live,” Harry whispered.  
“He knows that, Harry!” Ron laughed. “You’ve only said it about a thousand times.”  
Draco let them argue for a bit before finally building the courage to ask the questions he’d been dying to know. One glance out the window made him shrink lower into his seat until he couldn’t see anything outside except for the starry night sky.  
“Where did you get this car?”  
“It’s a Ministry car,” James replied.  
“Is that why you guys were able to cross the hedges undetected?”  
“Well,” James started before Fred interrupted.  
“It’s dad’s car. He enchanted it himself so it could be undetected by existing magic.”  
“He also charmed it to fly,” George peeped.  
James shifted a bit. “Yes, but it was a Ministry car before, nonetheless.”  
Draco nodded slowly. “How come so many of you came?”  
“It was originally just going to be me,” James sighed. “Harry insisted on coming despite Lily telling him no multiple times.”  
Harry grinned.  
“Harry insisted on Ron coming, too.”  
Ron nodded.  
“Fred and George insisted they needed to come,” James gave them both an exasperated look. “So they could protect ickle Ronald.”  
Both of them smirked. George winked at Ron over his shoulder.  
Draco smiled, feeling warm on the inside. Malfoy Manor was far behind him now. He was going to a place no one could hurt him; a place his parents dared not to set foot in. Not after the death of You-Know-Who. Not when they knew Draco would be protected by not only The Family Who Lived, but also by every single Weasley as well.  
“Now hold on tight. We’re going to Apparate back to the house.”  
Harry grabbed Draco’s hand, catching them both by surprise. Draco looked at him, without question, and nodded at him with pursed lips.  
“Don’t barf in the car,” Harry whispered right before they winked out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ickle ronald


	12. godrics hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies in advance for this terrible chapter

“Honey, I’m home,” James called as he swung the front door open wide.  
They had Apparated in the Ministry car directly to Harry’s house in Godric’s Hollow. It was a pretty house; white on the outside with a dark brown roof and a matching front door. The window frames were also that color, with little wooden ‘doors’ swung against the house walls. The front porch was decorated with plants and worn out arm chairs, and the front door was not elaborate or enormously tall; it was normal sized, made of wood, and was the same color as the roof, hidden by the white screen door.  
Above all else, it was inviting.  
Draco was led into the house following Harry, with George behind him. He noticed everyone’s grin as they stepped inside, and couldn’t help but sport one, too.   
It was much cooler inside the house, both figuratively and literally. He was washed in chilled air and a tall ceiling. There was carpet beneath his shoes instead of cold marble. Loud chattering and welcomes filled the air around him as the house occupants stood from couches and chairs and peeped out of hallways.  
Sirius Black shot up from where he was sitting and clapped James on the back while Remus did the same to Harry. Regulus stood next to Sirius, beaming warmly at them. An abundance of redheads came forward in a flurry as Draco tried to scoot out of the way. Most of them headed toward the twins but he couldn’t see much as arms circled his body and hugged him with Harry Potter level ferocity.   
When he was released, he saw before him every single Weasley, every Potter, both Black brothers, and a mousy haired Remus talking and smiling at him. It took him a few seconds before he realized they were speaking personally to him.   
“We’re so glad you’re here.”  
“Glad you made it with all ten toes.”  
“Pleased you could join us.”  
“Thank Merlin you’re here instead of there.”  
Draco couldn’t fight the tears welling in his eyes. All around him stood people happy to see him, people welcoming him into their home with open arms, people proud to call him their friend. He didn’t know if he had the right words to say all that he wanted to say.  
“You okay?” Harry asked quietly, standing beside him with his arm wrapped over his friend’s shoulder. Draco blinked and looked up at him, finding comfort in the green of his eyes. There, he found the strength to say what he wanted.  
“I can’t thank you enough for - for rescuing me,” Draco started carefully, toughening his voice enough for them to take him seriously. The word ‘rescue’ almost didn’t fit. He wanted to say he had been safe at Malfoy Manor, but why would he try to lie to himself?  
“You risked a lot,” Draco stated firmly, looking James Potter directly in the eyes. He had soft brown eyes, very much unlike that of his son’s or his wife’s. “I - I can’t thank you enough.” You already said that. “I think knowing you guys helped me realize how screwed up my family’s ways really are. I never would’ve been able to do it by myself.”  
Lily Potter lifted a dainty hand to wipe a tear away. “You’re welcome to stay here, with us. To live with us. There’s always room for more here at our house.” James placed an arm around her waist as they both smiled down at him.  
Draco felt his heart skip a beat. An invitation to stay here? To live with the Potters, the people who made him feel more loved than anyone else ever had? How could he ever turn down the offer?  
“You - you want me to stay with you?”  
“Of course,” James nodded.  
“Why else would we have wanted to take you out of that obnoxiously big castle of a house? Of course we want you to stay with us,” Harry said, grinning in a way that James was probably proud of. “You’re one of my best friends.”  
“Plus. we’ll get to see you more often,” Ron interjected, sending Draco a wink as he came to stand next to him.  
Sirius Black smiled sadly, glancing at James for a split second. “Sounds about right,” he said, voice small and soft. “I was always welcome at the Potters. It’s only fitting that their son picks up the tradition.”  
Draco burst into another smile, feeling it in every inch of his body and soul. It was almost strong enough to send him to his knees. He would never be able to thank them enough, but he figured they didn’t want his thanks. They wanted him to stay with them.  
“I’d be more than happy to.”

X

Harry, Ron, and Sirius helped Draco take his stuff to a spare room just across the hall from Harry’s. James and Lily’s room was at the other side of the house. It was very spacey, but had so much stuff and so many people filling it that it felt sort of small.   
In the spare room, Sirius placed his trunk down by the door as Lily followed in after them. Draco hardly noticed her as he listened to Harry talk about the house, Godric’s Hollow, and how Sirius, Regulus, and Remus didn’t live too far from here. He told them they and the Weasley’s were the only ones able to Apparate directly into their home. He told him about all the sleepover’s they could have with Ron this summer, and how he knew his parents would treat him like he was their own son.  
Lily had Summoned a twin sized bed, a desk and a tall wardrobe out of thin air when they weren’t looking. The bed had a wrought-iron frame while both the desk and the wardrobe were a light sand color. The walls were a creamy white shade that complimented the light and fluffy carpet below. The room was bright, soft, and friendly. It was welcoming, and it already looked like it was where he was meant to be all along.  
When Draco spun around to take it all in, Ron waltzed in with his mother following.  
“Oh, this is great!” Ron exclaimed, watching the bed make itself.   
“Draco, dear, come here,” Molly said, reaching for the pale blond boy, who gave her a weary, watery look with his bright blue eyes. When he stood in front of her, he lifted his chin to see her. She placed her left hand on his face and, with her right hand, took her wand and waved it over the cuts and scrapes and bruises. He felt his skin itch and quiver as it healed and when she was done, she squished his cheek.   
“All better.”  
“Thank you,” Draco dipped his head bit, fingers grazing the places he had been bleeding before. Even his tongue was better.  
“Mum, can I stay the night here?” Ron asked hurriedly, coming to her side and standing half a head taller than Draco.  
Molly sighed and gave Lily an apologetic look. “You’ll have to ask Lily, Ron, not me.”  
Both Harry and Ron rushed toward Lily, asking the question with pleading voices. Draco grinned, watching Molly look at her son and his friend with so much love in her eyes. Sirius came up next to Draco unexpectedly, causing him to jump. He tilted his head upward at the man, noticing how his hair fell off his shoulders and framed his face while he looked down. He had a very comforting look about him.  
“Come with me,” Sirius said before turning on his heel and leading Draco out into the hall. The hall held a bathroom, a closet, and Harry’s room. The living room was just down and around the corner, and the people inside seemed to be all he could hear.  
Sirius dipped onto a knee and became a little less than eye level with Draco.   
“I’m very proud of you. You don’t really know me, but you know we’re related and you know we’re sort of living the same life, don’t you agree?”  
Draco pursed his lips, trying to focus on his words. Before he could respond, Sirius went on.  
“I’m not entirely sure what to say. I’m good with words in the classroom but this -” he chuckled bitterly, “- this is different.”  
There was an awful pause. Draco could hear both their heartbeat despite the noise down the hall.  
“When I left my home, my family, I was worried for a short time that I had made the wrong decision. Even after having been James’ friend for five years, I didn’t want to just barge in like I’d lived there all my life.” Draco watched the corners of his lips lift just a fraction.  
“I showed up on their doorstep and Mrs. Potter took me in without even questioning me. They treated me like I was their son. Like I belonged with them,” Sirius whispered, hands twisting together almost like he was nervous.  
Draco scanned his face, his hands, and interpreted his body language. He wasn’t nervous at all; he was fighting his pain. His leg was shaking slightly, hands wringing each other, chewing his lip. He was confronting a past he had shoved into the back of his mind. Draco felt an overwhelming wave of sympathy for Sirius, and decided maybe they were alike after all. He wanted to be brave like him, like Harry, like James. Draco wanted to live here, and to become part of this family. He wanted it more than anything else in the world, and Sirius helped him realize that it was okay to want that.  
“What I’m saying is,” Sirius sighed, “you don’t have to worry about whether you belong here or not. You don’t need to worry about overstepping or inviting yourself in because I know James and I know Lily. I know they want you here, and I know they’re going to do their best to take care of you.”  
Then he stood up, placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder (and this time, he didn’t flinch away), grinned a wild Sirius Black grin, and said “We all will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she’s really short oop s


	13. second year

Summer had been a breeze.  
James and Lily held more than one sleepover for Harry, Ron, and Draco. One time they had even sent an owl to Neville, but his grandmother had declined. The three sent owls freely to their friends in far away places, anxiously awaiting replies each day.  
Their letters usually arrived in the mornings. Lily always left the massive window in front of the kitchen sink wide open as she and James made breakfast. Draco’s owl, Eris, was getting better at aiming so he didn’t drop letters in someone’s cereal.  
Lily took Harry and Draco to Diagon Alley to get their school book for the upcoming year the day they received their lists. She also took them to Muggle stores for fun. The more time he spent with them, the more Draco blended in. of course, he still stuck out like a sore thumb in the physical sense; James and Harry were the same dark tan shade with unruly black hair, and Lily was just a shade or two lighter than them with insanely red hair. Draco, on the other hand, wanted to curse his Pureblood skin sometimes. Not even hours unter the summer sun with the Potters could tan him. If anything, it made him sunburn more easily, which left him more red than tan. The sun only lightened his hair, which he was growing out because Lily and James say ‘why not, it’s your hair’ when he asked if he could. It was now past his ears and rested on his eyebrows when it was wet. When it dried, it had soft curls and went to the left, rather than straight down. Sirius was proud of him.   
Harry was rather jealous that Draco could control his hair so easily.  
As time passed, Draco’s room had become more of his own. He and Harry had matching Gryffindor banners hanging above their beds, as well as red and gold throw blankets that apparently James, Sirius, Remus, and Lily all had as well. The red and gold went well with the dark gray bedding on his bed, and the black iron frame. His wardrobe was filled with the clothes he had brought from Malfoy Manor, as well as some of Harry’s t-shirts he somehow ended up with.  
The desk Lily Summoned for him was organized neatly with quills and ink in one drawer, rolls of parchment in another, and books stacked neatly beside it. Draco prided himself on his tidiness because of how messy Harry was.  
All the newness and chaos of a new life had pushed Draco’s dread and anxiety to the backburner. He didn’t have much time to think about what would happen if his parents came to Godric’s Hollow to take him back. He didn’t have time to think about starting his second year at Hogwarts without them, or if they were planning some way to keep him from Harry, or if they even missed him.  
September first came quickly.  
Before long, he was back on Hogwarts Express, already having said goodbye to James, giving the man the best hug he could muster. Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Regulus all popped by he and Harry’s compartment to say hello before going on to the teachers compartment.   
Ron, Hermione and Neville joined them in said compartment, followed shortly by Ginny Weasley. She was Ron’s little sister, and would be starting her first year at Hogwarts this year. Draco smiled when she plopped next to Ron, who rolled his eyes.   
“Don’t you have somewhere else to sit?” he asked, rather annoyed.  
“All the other seats were full,” she spat back, having an unbreakable attitude like her mother with hair to match.   
“Be nice to your sister!” Hermione hissed, slapping Ron on the arm for a second before continuing conversation with Harry.   
Shortly after, Ron had left the compartment with Ginny, going down the walkways in search of someplace else for her to sit. When he came back, he had no Ginny and was wearing a very proud grin.   
“Found some girl for her to sit with. Said it was her first year. Lovegood. Long, white hair. Kinda like you, Draco,” he said, which made Draco’s cheeks light up. “Kinda weird, that one. Any of you know her?”  
“You said she’s a first year so probably not,” Hermione hissed again.  
The ride was long and winding as Harry retold the story of their great escape from Malfoy Manor. Draco let him tell the story, didn’t intervene when he added a few extra details, didn’t shrink when his friends bombarded him with questions. He didn’t care about that story anymore; it was over, and he was here now. That’s all that mattered.   
Everything had been going well until after the feast.   
Dumbledore had dismissed them, and Draco and his friends had led their way out of the Great Hall, not bothering to follow Percy since they already knew the way. Draco, squished between a blabbering Ron and Harry, had been caught by Professor McGonagall. She tapped his shoulder, addressed him by name and said, “You need to come with me.”  
He gave Harry a confused look, all his friends looked after him as he walked on with McGonagall. Draco turned away from them, catching a glance of Lily following Dumbledore out of the back of the Great Hall as McGonagall led him in the opposite direction of his fellow Gryffindors.  
Draco soon recognized where she was taking him. His memory was vague, but he remembered because he had been down this way more than once. The first time he’d ever been here was the second day of his first year here. He had punched Blaise Zabini in the face more than once because he called Hermione a Mudblood. Draco had since learned physical fighting was not worth the trouble, despite the fact that he fought Zabini two more times after that.  
McGonagall had led him all the way to Dumbledore’s office.  
“Sherbert lemon,” she said clearly to the gargoyles, who merely bat a nonexistent eyelid. The wall slid open and revealed a spiral staircase protected by a stone bird, which began to shift and turn, which allowed the two of them to start upward.  
“Professor,” Draco started carefully. “May I ask why you’ve brought me here?”  
He looked up at her, trying to read her features for some sort of clue, but she almost looked like a statue.   
“There is a message from your parents to you,” was all she said.  
He was glad that was all she had to say because instantly, he felt his stomach drop and his feet get heavier with every step. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he didn’t have a very good feeling about it.  
A message just didn’t sound right. If his parents had something to say, he was sure they would say it in person. They had too much pride and dignity to say something important in just a letter.   
Merlin, just stop trying to counter the letter. You know you don’t want them to actually be here, he thought to himself. Yeah, maybe I’m wrong and they really did just send me a letter. But why couldn’t McGonagall just give me the letter?  
Draco could hear voices now, loud and argumentative, very close by. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, footsteps echoing in his ears. It’d been nearly four months since he saw his parents last and he wasn’t sure he could hold himself up if it really was them behind the voices he could hear.  
McGonagall, with a gentle hand beneath his neck, led him nearer to the voices. his legs felt weak. he felt like he might collapse from the inside.   
“he sent a letter asking for us to come get him! isn’t that enough proof he doesn’t want to live with you?” lily’s voice roared, and by the sound of it, stomped her foot.   
“he’s not of age to decide where he wants to be,” narcissa hissed. her voice was enough to make him stop dead in his tracks. “we are his parents and we decide where he goes.”   
this can’t be happening.  
“come, draco,” professor said softly, giving him a confused look. without meeting her eyes, he let mcgonagall lead them straight to the lions den.   
she let him walk into dumbledore’s office first, then followed closely behind with a ghostly hand on the back of his arm. he wondered for a moment if she thought he would try to take off.   
as much as draco wanted to, he knew now he would be incapable of running off. now that he was in the presence of his parents, his shoes had become glued to the floor.   
maybe if i just take my shoes off, i can slide out of here quicker.  
lily potter and narcissa malfoy were standing almost toe to toe, red in the face and ready to spit fire. narcissa, naturally, had her arms crossed and her chin raised while lily stood with her feet wide and fists clenched at her sides.  
lucius merely stood awkwardly to the side with his stupid snake cane and that cursed white hair with a ghost of a smug grin on his face.   
dumbledore was sat at his desk, looking as calm and content as ever with his fingers intertwined. mcgonagall looked shaken at the scene, glancing questioningly at dumbledore, but he paid no mind.   
everyone turned to draco.   
“what’s going on?” he asked wearily, glancing between the two women that acted as mothers to him.   
“we’ve come to make sure dumbledore knows to keep you away from the potters, dear,” narcissa replies immediately. “before you start to argue, we’re your parents and what we say goes.”  
“you don’t get to choose!” lily screamed, even more aggressive than before. mcgonagall stepped forward in a hurry to pull her backward.   
“let’s just discuss this gently, lily,” she tried to say, but lily was not having it.  
“she has no valid argument, minerva! he didn’t want to live with them! that’s why he asked us to rescue him!”   
“this is the message?” draco said, throat dry. the urge to vomit was stronger than ever. if only harry were here, even if he just stood next to draco. perhaps then he’d get the strength to make his words sound sure.  
“narcissa, i do not have a say in who my students befriend,” dumbledore said, calm and still. “i also do not believe it is . . . of good taste to decide these types of things for your child.”  
narcissa looked outraged, looking to lucius for backup.   
“he’s my son and you’ll do as i ask,” she hissed. she whipped her head around to glare at draco, who felt he might turn to dust under her eyes.   
dumbledore stood up. “if the boy does not wish to live with you, then he should not have to. especially if he feels his life may be threatened.”  
“how dare you assume we would threaten his life!” lucius and narcissa argues in unison. draco could tell lily was fighting to keep her mouth shut.   
“we’ll remove him from this school and put him somewhere else if we must,” lucius finally said. the idea itself terrified draco.   
“i won’t go with you!” draco responded, cursing his still-young voice for lacking authority.   
“yes, you -“  
“if the boy does not wish to go with you, then he should not have to. i see no point in fighting any longer,” dumbledore roared, yet his voice still seemed level. it was enough to shut everyone up.   
“he’s our son,” narcissa whispered; a line he’d heard before. one that pierced straight through his heart, spreading like a disease.   
“then you should’ve treated him that way,” lily replied, with the same ferocity that james had only a few months before.   
the world began to spin.  
“if you do not come with us then you will never be welcomed back into our home,” lucius stated, but his words echoed in draco’s ears. his once glued shoes were now slippery and threatening to send him straight into the floor.  
he couldn’t explain what he felt, but it was searing, burning.   
“i never wanted to be your son.”  
lily came to his side, pulling him close and yelling at the malfoys as they tried to argue some more. dumbledore shot up from his desk, pointed at the door, and said something draco couldn’t quite hear. dumbledore himself followed draco’s parents out as lily took him far away from that cursed office, arm around his shoulders and looking around warily like something was coming after them.   
she had been whispering things to him the entire way to the gryffindor tower, but draco couldn’t really register them. everything hurt.   
they passed through the painting, lily still basically dragging him all the way to the boys staircase. he wondered if she’d yell for harry to come fetch him, since the staircases turned to a slide last time hermione tried to come up to their dorm. instead, she set him down and sat right next to him.   
draco didn’t realize he’d been crying until the tears smeared his cheek when his face hit her shoulder.   
“i’m so sorry,” she kept repeating.   
disowned. had they disowned him? was that what just happened?  
was this sirius black all over again?  
draco found his sadness turn to snotty giggles. this is unreal.  
lily pulled him away from her and searched his face. her brows and lips were pulled downward. “are you alright?”  
“i never knew how much i needed to get away from them until i came to hogwarts. i’m not upset,” he said quietly, lips lifting gently. “it’s what i didnt realize i wanted. i’m-i’m safe now. i get to live with people who love me,” draco finished, meeting lily’s eyes and finally being able to breathe. he saw harry in those eyes, and peace washed over him.   
“i’m sorry it had to happen like this. i’m sorry you were born from people like them,” she whispered, hugging him again. the potters were great huggers.   
lily pulled away and brought them both upward again. “now go. your friends will be worried.” then she began to push him up the stairs.   
draco was nearly around the first curve when she called out to him again.   
“i love you like my own son, draco. we’ll never abandon you.”  
and just like that, life got a little simpler. breathing came easy, and comfort was not hard to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol what is this


End file.
